


Katfishing

by cheeryPsycho, HorologiumParadox



Series: the web of wyrd but its got more knots than a boy scouts handbook [2]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: 1001 nicknames for Karkat, Accidental Catfishing, Alternate Universe - No Sburb/Sgrub Sessions, Background/past Karkat/dryer, Bulges (Homestuck), Car Sex, Catfishing, First Dates, Fluff and Angst, Frottage, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Mind-rotting rapping, Miscommunication, Online Dating, POV Alternating, Past Child Abuse, Pesterlog(s) (Homestuck), Roleplay Logs, Self-Denial
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-13
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:48:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 71,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26426632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cheeryPsycho/pseuds/cheeryPsycho, https://archiveofourown.org/users/HorologiumParadox/pseuds/HorologiumParadox
Summary: When Dave Strider hits 21 and his love life is not bustling like a retail store on Christmas Eve due to some live communication issues, he decides to try out his sister Rose’s recommendation for a dating app. It’s a somewhat sketchy site, but he stumbles upon an interesting profile and is accidentally catfished into a crush on a grumpy troll.TL;DR: Karkat accidentally catfishes Dave.
Relationships: Dave Strider/Karkat Vantas
Series: the web of wyrd but its got more knots than a boy scouts handbook [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1972798
Comments: 88
Kudos: 198





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **Tags & rating will be progressively updated as it gets sexier. ;D**  
>    
> RP'd on the Homestuck RP Server on Discord. 
> 
> HorologiumParadox as Dave Strider, Dirk Strider & Rose Lalonde  
> cheeryPsycho as Karkat Vantas & Kanaya Maryam

“How did it come down to this?”

Is what Dave Strider asks himself as he looks down at his computer screen. As far as he’s concerned, dating apps are for sad, old, lonely people who can’t get laid or are just too lazy to go out and meet people.

Well, he supposes that, aside from old, everything else pretty much checks out, so he’s right up there at the top of prospect clients for the owner of _Spectrum_ , the website he currently has open on his underground browser.

It’s not entirely his fault. Having a night job makes things difficult, as well as having a foot permanently shoved in his mouth while talking to people personally. Alright, maybe virtually too. In Dave’s defense, he doesn’t mean it, some things just…spill out, or ‘slip’, as his eloquent, passive-aggressive sister had suggestively suggested in the past.

In fact, Rose herself had been the one to recommend this specific site, which, now that he thinks about it, should probably be a red flag. Well, considering there are no puppet dongs popping out at the screen, he already feels safer than when he’d asked her for tentacle porn sites as a joke about her weird interests. She’d taken it as a jab at her interspecies relationship with Kanaya, which resulted in several months of subtle threats and a cascade of misunderstandings until Dave _finally_ figured out what had been the problem. Rose had barely spared an ‘oh’ and that is as good as an apology for the Strider-Lalonde family as it can get.

Dave clicks around with a bored stare, biting on the inside of his cheek. Can’t hurt to give it a try, he guesses. He pulls up the form to sign in, inputs his e-mail, name, number, the works. As his username, he uses his former Pesterchum handle. It’s mostly dead by now, what with Bookface and other chat clients, but it was cool while it lasted. Rest in peace, dear brother.

He starts working on his profile. At some point, the page asks what’s his _color_. Color? Like, his favorite one? He doesn’t really have a favorite. Is that really relevant? The fuck does it matter if he likes…

_…What? ‘Teal’? ‘Rust’???_ In what world are those normal colors??? Damn, has branding gone too far? Marketing these days, am I right? Oh, it’s not a required field, sweet. He skips the question.

It also comes to his attention that in no point in time he’s asked about his gender and orientation or something of the kind. Is that part of the branding, he wonders? Something alternative and gay-friendly? Cool, he guesses. He just assumes the site knows from his profile that he’s a dude, as long as he makes it clear.

After a little more clicking around, Dave finishes setting up his profile and decides it’s somewhat decent. It’s enough of an effort.

**Dave Strider**

  
Age: 21  
Profession: rap master on the streets, dj in the sheets  
Interests: music, movies, some other organic shit i dont feel like making a list rn just hmu if you feel like having your mind and or pussy blown

“Alright, then, let’s see what this fuss is all about,” he mumbles, shifting into an even less ergonomically correct position in his chair.

The suggestion page supplies him with some odd-named fellows. “Arknav? Is that Slovakian? Damn, hot.” He keeps scrolling, quite a few profiles don’t have any pictures. Shit, this must be _really_ underground. There’s even some people in cosplay around here, horns and everything.

Most profiles go on about colors and practices of their _caste_ (whaaaaat?) and Dave’s frankly about to close the website to never come back when something catches his eye and he snorts. “Fuck, seriously?”

**Karkat Vantas**

  
Age: 21 human years old  
Profession: proofreader  
Interests: romantic literature  
...music, movies, walks on the beach? What kind of primitive garbage am I supposed to write here? Can't we just have some basic interpersonal interactions like two grown-ass adults? This is a stupid way to do this.

“Kinky,” Dave smirks. I mean yeah, there are some chicks fixated on signs and the zodiac, but c’mon. You can’t have a profile pic like this and not expect someone to at least tease you about it.

He decides he has nothing to lose.

\-- turntechGodhead has sent carcinoGeneticist a DM! --

TG: nice pic you have there  
TG: real talk though on a scale of 0 to 69 how much did you think that through  
TG: asking for science

* * *

CG: OH GODS. YOU'RE THE *PERSON* WITH THE RIDICULOUS SELFIES ON THEIR PROFILE. ALRIGHT, I GUESS WE'RE DOING THIS. WHAT DO I HAVE TO LOSE EXCEPT ALL REMAINING SELF-RESPECT AND WHAT LITTLE HOPE FOR PEOPLEKIND I HAD IN THE FIRST PLACE.  
CG: I GUESS I'M GOING TO HAVE TO GIVE YOU THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT.  
CG: OK, YOU CAN TRY TO "BLOW MY MIND AND/OR PUSSY". WHATEVER THE HELL THAT MEANS.  
CG: THAT IS MY SIGN. YOU WOULD INTERPRET IT IN HUMAN ZODIAC TERMS, I SUPPOSE.  
CG: BUT "REAL TALK", ON A SCALE OF 0 TO 69, I ALREADY HAVE A STRUT POD OUT OF THIS CONVERSATION.

* * *

TG: hey give me a chance here you havent even witnessed my insane literary prowess  
TG: your profile says youre into that kinda stuff  
TG: i can wax poetic while keeping a tempo which doubles the impress factor  
TG: have you ever heard of rap battles  
TG: aw ngl im a little disappointed but ok yeah so youre a cancer  
TG: oh ok that would explain the carcino in your handle  
TG: is it even called a handle if its a dating app or is it like a fondle or something  
TG: wait  
TG: strut pods?  
TG: is that like a walking aid or

* * *

CG: THEY ARE FEET, YOU UNCULTURED SWINE APE.  
CG: AND OH, HEY, SPEAKING OF. PERFECT SEGWAY.  
CG: I WOULDN'T CALL RAP BATTLES "LITERARY" IN THE WILDEST OF MY SLIME-SOAKED SKULL-VIOLATING NIGHTMARES.  
CG: ALSO I AM GRACIOUSLY IGNORING YOUR USE OF THE WORD "FONDLE". YOU'RE FUCKING WELCOME.  
CG: AS FOR MY SIGN. JUST BECAUSE I USE IT AS A FORM OF IDENTIFICATION, IT DOESN'T MEAN I SUBJECT TO ALL THE CUSTOMARY DRACONIAN CASTE-SYSTEM BULLSHIT. OR ANY SUBSEQUENT ASPECTS THEREOF.  
CG: I ASSUME  
CG: YOU'RE OK WITH THAT?  
CG: CAUSE IF NOT, WE'RE GONNA HAVE A PROBLEM.

* * *

TG: tough luck weve already got a problem  
TG: what do you mean rap battles arent literary theyre the voice of the voiceless katarina  
TG: if youre under the illusion that only words printed under hardcover can make you swoon allow me to blow your fucking mind  
TG: only your mind for now anyway  
TG: check it  
TG: met this lad online and theyre skeptic  
TG: but I have a feeling that vantass is copacetic  
TG: so ill try and be slightly more empathetic  
TG: im here to show em rap can be poetic, besides  
TG: having tempo to go with momentum, aside  
TG: lacing rhyme and marking time, i slide  
TG: into your dms and build up steam, ignite  
TG: fog up the screen, rinse and repeat, a fucking joyride  
TG: without leaving the bed, call the fire truck  
TG: scorching up your nethers and having you drop your revision  
TG: see if youve never given a god head youre in luck  
TG: cause baby ive got a hard tether and turntech precision  
TG: mic fucking drop  
TG: boom hows that ms gone with the wind

Dave stares at his artwork on the screen for a few seconds. A voice in his head that sounds suspiciously like Rose says ‘see, this is why you don’t have a girlfriend’.

* * *

CG: OK  
CG: WOW  
CG: I CAN'T EVEN  
CG: BEGIN  
CG: SHIT, JUST LET ME COLLECT MY THOUGHTS HERE FOR A MINUTE.  
CG: ...  
CG: OK, FIRST OF ALL.  
CG: AND ONLY BECAUSE I'M FUCKING MAGNANIMOUS.  
CG: SOME OF THOSE RHYMES WEREN'T A COMPLETE DUMPSTER FIRE.  
CG: THAT INCREDIBLY CHARITABLE CONCESSION OF MERCY ASIDE, THIS IS LIKE THE ZENITH OF ALL PORNOGRAPHIC SELF-INSERTED EGOMANIA.  
CG: I NOW SINCERELY AND WITHOUT A DOUBT IN MY BLOODPUSHER BELIEVE THAT YOU ARE INDEED CAPABLE OF TURNING MY BED TO ASHES.  
CG: MY "NETHER REGIONS" ARE QUIVERING IN BOTH FEAR AND ANTICIPATION OF YOUR MIGHTY MIC DROP.  
CG: PRAY COME TAKE ME AT ONCE, YOU MAGNIFICENT MUSCLEBEAST.  
CG: IN FACT, WHY WOULD YOU CONCEIVABLY BE WASTING YOUR COITAL PROWESS IN A DATING SITE FOR LONELY LOSERS, WHEN YOU'RE CLEARLY THE UNIVERSE'S RESPONSE TO UNSATISFIED YEARNING LOINS EVERYWHERE.  
CG: AND MOST IMPORTANTLY, HOW DESPERATE DO YOU HAVE TO BE TO ENTERTAIN SUCH A MASSIVELY GAPING TOOL.  
CG: WHO WOULD.  
CG: WHY AM I POSSIBLY CONSIDERING THIS IN ANY WAY OR FORM.

* * *

Dave looks up when there’s a ping on the screen. Oh wow, she hasn’t blocked him yet. As he reads the messages, a slow smile spreads across his face.

TG: heh thanks  
TG: it takes years to master the art of spitting ill fires im glad you recognize my craft  
TG: and obviously because youve got good taste is why youre considering this  
TG: and by this i evidently mean my spicylicious bod  
TG: speaking of which nice to know your gaping tool is massive i didnt think youd actually sext so early on given how tight assed you sound  
TG: not that im complaining btw youre pretty funny  
TG: i mean *bloodpusher*?  
TG: where the fuck did you even scavenge that from  
TG: oh right you said youre a proofreader  
TG: pardon my blithering ignorance but what does a proofreader do  
TG: like do you get a taste of the book and go hmmmm yes this is some flavorful prose  
TG: or maybe you work in court and someone hands you some evidence and you read it aloud  
TG: yeah imma go with that one  
TG: do you read it in tune or just monotonic like a med leaflet in those drug commercials  
TG: your honor the victim was home at nine thirty as per attested at timestamp 12:48 of the following video  
TG: but with mariah carey falsettos every four words  
TG: shit is your job dangerous???  
TG: as in some people hold grudges or some kind of dont kill the mailman situation  
TG: is that why youre here your job makes it hard for you to go out in public  
TG: that would explain the mysterious pfp  
TG: damn youre full of secrets  
TG: and just for the record im not a lonely loser im a dj which is the exact opposite of a loser  
TG: my working hours are just too savage for lame people which is why im roaming the wildest place of all to meet people  
TG: the world wide web  
TG: anyway now that intros are out of the way  
TG: wyd

* * *

CG: WELL, PARDON ME IF I SOUND TIGHT-ASSED TOWARDS SOMEONE WHO CLAIMS TO BE "SPICYLICIOUS" .  
CG: I MIGHT BE AN OBJECTIVE ASSHOLE BUT NOT A TIGHT ONE.  
CG: AND BY THE WAY I AM *IN NO WAY SEXTING YOU*, I WAS REFERRING TO THE *OTHER TOOL* IN THIS CONVERSATION, AKA YOU.  
CG: FUCKING *SIGH*. A PROOFREADER IS, IN LOW-IQ LAYMAN'S TERMS FOR YOUR CONVENIENCE, SOMEONE WHO REVISES TEXTS FOR MISTAKES BEFORE THEY ARE TO BE PUBLISHED. I'M SICK OF HAVING THIS MORONIC AND FRANKLY OFFENSIVE CONVERSATION.  
CG: NO, IT IS NOT A BLANKET PROFESSION THAT ANYONE CAN HAVE AS A SAFETY NET.  
CG: NO, YOUR FUCKING NIECE WHO GETS A B+ IN ENGLISH CANNOT DO MY FUCKING JOB, I'D LOVE TO SEE HER TRY AND SWEAT BULLETS TO THE POINT OF RIPPING HER HAIR OFF IN DISTRESS AT HER OWN INCOMPETENCE, MAVIS.  
CG: AND WHY DOES A PROFILE PICTURE MAKE SUCH A DIFFERENCE ANYWAY.  
CG: WHY EVEN TRY TO MAKE A CONNECTION THEN, JUST SEND A PICTURE OF YOUR OVER-ABUSED BULGE TO THE FIRST IMBECILE IN HEAT YOU COME ACROSS.  
CG: OH I'M SORRY, I DIDN'T MAKE ENOUGH OF AN EFFORT BY NOT PUTTING UP A PHOTO OF MY ASS GREASED-UP LIKE AN OINKBEAST STUFFED INTO THE SMALLEST BANANA HAMMOCK ON THE MARKET? UGH.  
CG: YOU KNOW YOU'D THINK YOU'D BE GRATEFUL TO FIND SOMEONE WHO IS NOT A MASSIVE SHALLOW ASSHAT, OTHERWISE THEY WOULD IMMEDIATELY VOMIT AT YOUR PROFILE.  
CG: NOT OVER YOUR APPEARANCE, MIND YOU.  
CG: BUT FROM HOW MUCH OF A DOUCHEBAG HIPSTER YOU GIVE THE APPEARANCE OF BEING.  
CG: YOU BETTER FEEL BLESSED THAT UNDER ALL THAT BRAVADO AND BULLSHIT SOMEONE LIKE ME MIGHT DETECT A WHIFF OF INTELLIGENCE IF YOU SQUINT HARD ENOUGH. IF MY EYES WERE INFECTED. ON A FOGGY DAY.  
CG: ...  
CG: I WAS WATCHING A MOVIE, OR TRYING WHILE AN IDIOT TALKS IN MY DIRECTION.  
CG: IT'S SLEEPLESS IN SEATTLE.

* * *

Dave chuckles and mouths some passages, completely entertained. Then, his mind zeroes in one sentence.

TG: so you think im hot?

Before his victim can answer, however, he goes off again.

TG: damn you shouldve started with that  
TG: you even admitted to finding me smart were making some progress here ms blenderpanties  
TG: also if you were busy watching a movie when i hit you up and youre still talking to me then either one of the following is true  
TG: one the movie isnt that interesting  
TG: two youre hot for the strider bulge or whatever you called it  
TG: regardless of the answer it still makes me a better plan for the moment  
TG: the odds are stacked against you evidence taste-tester vantas  
TG: it appears the exhibits havent been properly savored  
TG: check fucking mate wuthering heights  
TG: oh is that the one with tom hanks and that chick thats always paired with him in dramas  
TG: ok that was a terrible description for an artist but in my defense i was about to refer to tom hanks as the guy who chatted up a volleyball on a deserted island  
TG: i dont whats worse in the industry whether its being known for one work you did a thousand years ago or for being someones elses spouse  
TG: yeah alright we all know whats worse i mean i heard kanye west being addressed as beyonces husband the other day  
TG: damn am i someone elses shadow  
TG: do people ask about me on the streets and they reply oh yeah d-stri hes a friend of hurricane harley sometimes he does the intro to her shows its pretty cute  
TG: what do you think karkat  
TG: by the way unless im sorely mistaken  
TG: i believe some quotation marks were in order in your last message

* * *

CG: HOLY BLEEDING FUCK, THE CRETIN WHO HASN'T USED A SINGLE PUNCTUATION SIGN WITHIN A THOUSAND AND ONE UTTERANCES IS TRYING TO LECTURE ME ABOUT QUOTATION MARKS!  
CG: IF I CHOOSE FREEFORM TO REPLY TO ASININE MESSAGES ON THE STUPIDEST MOST USELESS WEBSITE ON THE WHOLE WORLD WIDE WEB, THAT'S MY GODDAMN BUSINESS YOU SMARTASS.  
CG: AND FUCK YOU, SLEEPLESS IN SEATTLE IS A MASTERPIECE OF LIGHTHEARTED ROMANCE AND THE PURSUIT OF A NEW LIFE AND HOPE AFTER DEVASTATING GRIEF.  
CG: AS FAR AS BASIC HUMANS ARE ABLE TO GRASP THOSE CONCEPTS, AT ANY RATE.  
CG: YOU PROBABLY THINK YOU DO SINCE YOUR OBVIOUSLY GARGANTUAN EGO IS SO MASSIVE IT'S THREATENING TO COLLAPSE INTO ITSELF.  
CG: BUT IT IS NOT ALL BAD NEWS STRIDER, SINCE THE IMMENSE BLACK HOLE IT WILL CREATE AS A RESULT MIGHT BE THE ONLY THING IN THE OBSERVABLE UNIVERSE CAPABLE OF ABSORBING THE OBSCENE AMOUNT OF SHIT COMING OUT OF THAT MOUTH.  
CG: ALIEN CIVILIZATIONS ALL THROUGHOUT THE COSMOS WILL WEEP IN GRATITUDE AT BEING SPARED YOUR BOISTEROUS DECEITFUL TIRADES.  
CG: I DON'T KNOW WHAT THE HELL A BLENDERPANTIES IS BUT YOU PROBABLY HAVEN'T EVEN READ WUTHERING HEIGHTS.  
CG: HAVE YOU...?  
CG: ANYWAY YOU'RE NOT THAT ATTRACTIVE, GET OVER YOURSELF.  
CG: I MEAN.  
CG: I CAN TAKE IT OR LEAVE IT.  
CG: I GUESS.  
CG: FDGJKLDFK

* * *

TG: holy fuck man ahahahahah  
TG: seriously like  
TG: damn  
TG: i know i get carried away while talking but you just wrote a fucking essay to tell me to eat shit  
TG: thats fucking amazing ahahah  
TG: you should submit it to the journal of subversive languages or some other bullshit title to make it sound important  
TG: hey maybe i could make a rap out of it  
TG: man i can almost hear your keyboard mashing from here jesus  
TG: do you type all that with a straight face or are you huffing and scowling like those cheap plastic halloween decorations?  
TG: heh  
TG: thanks though  
TG: and hey if looking like douchebag hipster is whats hooked you into talking to me  
TG: then ill take it

Dave chews on his nails, then realizes he’s spent too much time staring at the screen.

TG: yeah ive read it  
TG: i like to read sometimes but i cant focus for too long so i dont get too far and end up forgetting about it  
TG: my sister is a writer so she sends me her stuff to read sometimes  
TG: i guess you could say i was her proofproofreader shit that sounds like a dog breed  
TG: welcome to the final stage of chicagos annual dog pageant here are our finalists phiphi the proofproofreader allie the sans-sommelier and cora the paletrician  
TG: for the final round our super woofers will have to show us their patented skills  
TG: phiphi is correcting the grammar of hate comments on the internet points for social justice  
TG: but whats this the sans sommelier is conducting group therapy for alcoholics anonymous thats pretty fucking impressive  
TG: however does she have a permit for that? i think the fuck not so its declassification for your ms allie looks like your intentions were good but your ways misguided  
TG: last but not least the paletrician is hijacking a car jesus fucking Christ  
TG: im pretty sure shes not of legal age to drive yet therefore shes taking the boot too  
TG: dont give me that look cora you know the rules  
TG: which leaves phiphi as the uncontested winner hell yes cmere girl you can sniff allies asses later  
TG: oh right dogs dont have a sense of object permanence so uh  
TG: anyway  
TG: been reading anything good lately

* * *

CG: SIGNLESS FUCKING SUFFERER, YOU PROOFREAD FOR YOUR SISTER? GOOD LORD.  
CG: WAIT, WHO IS YOUR SISTER?? IS SHE A PROFESSIONAL WRITER? ANYTHING I MIGHT HAVE READ?  
CG: THIS IS INTERESTING.  
CG: ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THIS COIN: DO YOU EVEN READ WHAT YOU'RE TYPING NINETY PERCENT OF THE TIME?? WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK.  
CG: DID I JUST READ A WHOLE SUNDAY EDITION ABOUT FICTIONAL BARKBEASTS WITH PEOPLE SKILLS COMPETING FOR A TROPHY?  
CG: AM I FINALLY HAVING THAT WELL-EARNED STROKE I'VE BEEN YEARNING FOR?  
CG: ALL THESE 12TH PERIGEES EVES GETTING A SAD TWO-WHEEL DEVICE, AND AT LAST.  
CG: MY COVETED WISH IS FINALLY COMING TRUE, THAT BLOD CLOT HAS FINALLY MADE IT INTO MY THINKSPONGE.  
CG: OF COURSE IF THERE REALLY WAS ANY KIND OF GOD WORTH A MERCIFUL DAMN, MY BRAIN WOULD HAVE ALREADY EXPLODED AND LEAKED OUT OF MY HEAD ORIFICES SO I DIDN'T HAVE TO KEEP LOOKING AT A WALL OF TEXT ABOUT DOGS TRYING TO STEAL CARS.  
CG: NOT TO MENTION THE WORDS "SUPER WOOFERS".  
CG: SO NEVER MIND. THERE ARE NO BENEVOLENT GODS STRIDER, THERE NEVER HAVE AND THERE NEVER WILL BE.  
CG: AND I'M READING 'EAT, PRAY, LOVE.'

* * *

TG: hahaha you just dissed me for saying super woofers then you bestow upon me the word barkbeast  
TG: thats pretty fucking rich ms vantas  
TG: and i dont know man thats pretty confidential information my sisters pretty famous  
TG: which makes me a valuable contact  
TG: maybe ill tell you during our date who knows  
TG: aw shit karkitten its almost time for my gig  
TG: dont worry ill talk to you later try not to miss me too much  
TG: peace out

Dave logs out with a small but genuine smile on his face. He pulls up his phone and creates a new note to remind himself to stop by a bookstore later. Or maybe a library. He’s not sure he’s ready to make _that_ much of a commitment just yet.

* * *

Karkat Vantas gestures uselessly at his computer screen, mouth agape and eyes wide, his fists clenching closed and open in utter confusion and disbelief.

_What the HELL was all of that._

Is what his brain keeps screaming, skimming down the preposterously surreal word loaf that just happened in front of his face. His eye particularly twitches at the word _date_.

There's something inherently wrong with him for even giving this a fighting chance. But what the fuck else is new.

He forces a frustrated huff out, forceful as a cannon shot, and pinches the bridge of his nose, eyes closing as he feels a stress headache already crawling up his sinuses.

If all that really just happened, and he seriously considers the possibility that after all these years he's finally gone off the deep end batshit crazy... then that means.

Means what? That this douchebag just _asked him out on a date_ ?? The possibility fills him with dread, bewilderment and a strange nervous pinch in his digestion bladder. He would stubbornly deny the idea of this series of events actually coming to term, but it's kind of hard when it's _right in front of his eyes._

This. This rambling, over-impudent, cocky motherfucker? Seriously?

Ok, so he's not hard to look at, but that is absolutely besides the point as far as Karkat is concerned, and he won't dignify it with a single thought. Yeah.

...he quickly considers the hint of cleverness that's come through the human's string of nonsensical ravings. He then does some customary internal self-lashing for always being the one who notices these tiny details on everyone, these near-anecdotal parts of them that somehow tend to change everything. It's hard to fully hate someone when you get a glimpse of those darkened corners.

And one more spine is stuck in the troll's mind, he cannot help but remind himself. His sister is a famous writer? He can't help but wonder about that. An anxious buzzing spreads through his body. Maybe he'll get to pick their brains or... something. 

_...he is not bitter._

Karkat staggers to his nearest fluffy troll pile and lets himself faceplant it, exhausted. He barely represses the instinct to scream into a pillow, but that usually accidentally leads to his full-fledged flailing ragefit routine, and he could do without that right now. He's just. Limp. And tired.

He wishes he could call Kanaya, but she's been so preoccupied with her new far away job, and that new relationship that she's keeping rather cagey about for the moment. He can feel the distance between them, it hurts and she misses her. But he should probably just. Leave her alone.

His eyes wander back up to the nearby screen once more of their own accord. The chaotic mix of feelings in his gut won't subside though, and he takes a slow, deep breath.

Ok. He guesses he's doing this. He feels lonely, empty, and he's becoming more reclusive by the minute, so the least he should do is give it a go.

Besides, what's the worst that could possibly happen?

* * *

That evening, Dave locks his door and leaves for work humming a beat just a tone brighter than usual. It’s a Friday night, which means he’s going to be busy for a while.

And he indeed is, mixing at a party before joining the setlist for a nightclub downtown. By the time the place finally closes and he says goodbye to his usual employers, the sun’s starting to get hard to ignore and Dave is Dead ft. Buried.

However, as the blond walks back to the main street to catch a ride back home, he’s almost startled out of his skin at a shutter suddenly being pulled up beside him. He looks around to see if there’s anyone laughing at him and as soon as he ascertains blissfully that no such thing happened, he looks up at the establishment.

A thought immediately hits him and he decides to go inside.

It’s not until Sunday evening that Dave manages to log onto his computer with time to spare. He has a book on his messy desk and some nasty soda in his hand when he pulls up the _Spectrum_ chat with brazen certainty.

TG: what do you think came first sunday or sundae  
TG: ok no thats a dumb question lemme rephrase it  
TG: do you think sundae was inspired by sunday or by the same thing that inspired sunday which i guess would be the sun  
TG: was it a direct or indirect form of inspiration like did mcdonalds outright change a random letter and slap the name on their cupful of calories and diabetes or did they outsource plagiarism too  
TG: either way its a lame brand for a product lacks creativity  
TG: its easy to remember though which i suppose its the fucking point however its also easily mistaken so minus 10 points for poor branding  
TG: overall id rate it a 4 out of ten i guess  
TG: now you know some spoilers about my future autobiography which is just several thousand pages of me rating shit that happens in my life  
TG: it has 6 tomes and 9 volumes guess why  
TG: comes in hardcover btw  
TG: anyway genius ideas aside  
TG: how was your weekend elizabeth

* * *

Karkat has calmed down a bit over the past couple of days. Or as much as he is physically able to calm down, which is not that much. _He is trying_ , ok?

He has a game plan. When... IF this Dave Strider human DMs him again, he's gonna try to make a _sane_ personal connection, keep his head cold and not yell at him. Or rant endlessly. These... are not things Karkat is good at doing. There's a first time for everything though, right?

A sigh escapes his fangy maw while he takes his favorite sweater out of the laundry basket and folds it. What are the chances of this situation ever working at all? Nothing ever works out for him, his self-hating brain chants. Besides, with a human? There's nothing inherently wrong with that, but it can have an extra layer of complications. And not just physically. Uh.

In a moment of weakness, Karkat looks up from his menial task and considers sitting on the dryer. He immediately pushes the idea down and away with instant regret, to no use. He had the thought and it's not gonna magically disappear. Fuck him.

Oh god, he needs to cut that shit out and especially when talking to the Strider guy. Keep it up and his faux-pas will definitely be used as ammunition by that sharp as hell tongue. Um. And he is definitely not gonna put his foot in his mouth aga-

**_DIIINNNNG_ **

_Spectrum_ chat rings WAY TOO LOUD and Karkat falls with a yelp into the pile of laundry he was dealing with, and now he'll need to deal with again. Fucking. Hell. He makes a mental note to next time remember to turn the volume down after blasting _Welcome to the Black Parade_ while cleaning.

His heart is racing a bit. Definitely from the scare and nothing more. _Calm down stupid, he's not even that attractive._ He sits on his desk chair and reads the new barrage of nonsense he's been gifted while trying to catch up on his breathing. With a snort, he replies back almost immediately:

CG: MR. DARCY.  
CG: I'VE BEEN DOING THE USUAL, MINGLING WITH THE JET SET AT FANCY NIGHTCLUBS, ATTENDING THE HOTTESTS EVENTS WHERE THE QUEEN OF ENGLAND COULDN'T MAKE IT WITHOUT BRIBING THE BOUNCER TO SLIP INTO THE AAA LIST, GOING TO ORGIES WITH ALL THE BEAUTIFUL PEOPLE.

After hitting send, Karkat stares for a solid ten seconds at the word _ORGIES_ , contemplating whom of the two interlocutors of this conversation is actually the bigger idiotic jackass.

CG: JUST KIDDING. I'VE BEEN DOING CHORES, CATCHING UP ON WORK AND DOING SOME QUIET READING.  
CG: I SEE THAT THE AMOUNT OF RAMBLING TANGENTS SPEWING OUT OF YOUR MOUTH HASN'T DECREASED. WHICH I WAS STARTING TO BE WILLING TO ACCEPT AND DEFTLY TUNE OUT.  
CG: EXCEPT NOW YOU MADE ME WANT A MCFLURRY, YOU DICK.

* * *

TG: woah hey shit dude keep it pg 13 here jeez  
TG: man my sister would have a field day with this shes all into that psychanalytical stuff  
TG: yknow the one with the dicks and daddy issues  
TG: the theoretical perspective not my sibling i mean  
TG: though i honestly wouldnt be surprised if she  
TG: you know what never fucking mind theres no good way of ending that sentence  
TG: i see you were getting frisky then  
TG: however i knew for a fact that you were being facetious when you said that  
TG: because if there had been an orgy with all the beautiful people i would be the one behind it  
TG: get it  
TG: anyway your crass vocabulary aside  
TG: cool  
TG: are you still reading eat pray love  
TG: what part are you at

* * *

CG: WOW, THE INTRICACIES OF YOUR SIBLING'S SUBCONSCIOUS COMPLEX RE HUMAN GENITALIA, PLUS YOUR AND YOUR ANCESTOR'S RELATION TO IT IS A REALLY FANTASTIC TOPIC OF CONVERSATION. LET'S TALK ABOUT IT FOREVER, PLEASE ELABORATE.

Karkat wonders if his facepalm abilities have reached such peaks of excellence that this time the noise might actually have been able to make it through the screen for Strider to hear.

CG: AT THIS POINT I WILL CLARIFY THAT I *AM* BEING FACETIOUS AND I NEVER WANT TO HEAR ANYTHING ELSE ABOUT THAT SUBJECT MATTER AGAIN, EVER.  
CG: FOR WHAT IT'S WORTH I VERY MUCH WANT TO APOLOGIZE FOR MY *INAPPROPRIATE VOCABULARY*, MR. MASTER OF ALL VIP ORGIES.

...

_Is that the word ORGIES up there again?! **Past Karkat is a fucking MORON.**_

CG: AND SINCE THE IRONY'S PROBABLY LOST ON YOU, I WILL GO THE REST OF THE WAY AND RESPOND YOUR UNSEEMLY IMPLICATION: I WAS NOT "GETTING FRISKY".  
CG: I WAS  
CG: DOING LAUNDRY.

_STOP. THINKING. OF THE FUCKING. DRYER._

CG: ANYWAY, UM.  
CG: EAT, PRAY, LOVE. RIGHT.  
CG: I'M ON CHAPTER 11, WHEN GILBERT ARRIVES IN ROME.

* * *

TG: heh nice title maybe ill put it on my resume  
TG: and kitkat taking into account the average length of vantas sentences ill have you know those last few sentences were hella sketchy  
TG: if i was a cop doing my rounds in the subtext neighborhood and i saw those shady phrases with all pointy collocations in a dark alley i would pull the fuck up and ask their ids  
TG: send them back to school because a sentence still in early stages of development shouldnt be around roaming the streets  
TG: gotta strive to make a full meaning of itself  
TG: achieve its utmost potential of being used to woo a chick  
TG: as yours truly so expertly performs  
TG: either way ill let it slide for now but think of your laundry later tonight

Dave quickly opens the book and flips through the pages until chapter 11, expecting it to be by the end of the tome. It isn’t. He frowns, then goes back to the index and his face drops. _Why the fuck are there more than one fucking hundred chapters?????_ Nevermind, he’ll just wing it.

TG: oh so still pretty fresh into the story  
TG: well i wont give you any spoilers then  
TG: how do you like it so far?

* * *

CG: OK, I AM NOT A CHOCOLATE CRUNCH BAR. WHAT'S THE DEAL WITH THAT.  
CG: WAIT DIDN'T YOU CALL ME KARKITTEN EARLIER? ...GETTING A BIT FAMILIAR OVER HERE.

_Why is it hotter than doing crossfit in an active volcano today._

CG: I SWEAR TO GOD IF YOU SAY SOMETHING ALONG THE LINES OF "BEEP BEEP MEOW" I WILL JUMP OFF MY 5TH FLOOR STUDIO APARTMENT WINDOW AND GLADLY SPLATTER MY BOWELS ALL OVER THE PAVEMENT BELOW.  
CG: IF YOU DO NOT WANT TO SEE ME DEAD IN THE NEWS OVER A HEADLINE THAT SAYS "LOCAL JACKASS FORCES POOR SOUL TO COMMIT SUICIDE OVER HOW UNFORTUNATELY STUPID HIS NAME SOUNDS ON EARTH", PLEASE REFRAIN.  
CG: AND MY PHRASING ISN'T SHADY. MY FINGER SLIPPED.

Karkat gawks at the words _think of your laundry tonight_ and immediately regrets getting into that train of thought. Is that a- what he... PLANS to do?! What he's URGING him to do?! WHAT.

He fans his face with a spare piece of printer paper. Judging by how hot it feels, his hemospectrum vigilance alert would be ringing loud in his head if he were anywhere else but his apartment. Trying to take his mind off how a flippant jackass is affecting him so powerfully, he turns his attention to one of the dullest books he has had the displeasure of picking up.

CG: I'M NOT REALLY ENJOYING THE BOOK VERY MUCH. IT'S ABOUT A PRIVILEGED WOMAN WHO REJECTS EVERYTHING GOOD IN HER LIFE, DITCHES THE PERSON WHO LOVES HER AND GOES IN A SELF-INDULGENT VOYAGE AROUND THE WORLD.  
CG: I'M FINDING IT HARD TO MAKE A CONNECTION WITH THE CHARACTER. IT'S NICE TO READ ABOUT TRAVELLING AND DALLIANCES IN THE WAY. BUT.  
CG: I DON'T KNOW. IT KIND OF FEELS LIKE THE GRIPINGS OF SOMEONE WHO DIDN'T REALLY APPRECIATE HOW GOOD SHE HAD IT IN THE FIRST PLACE.

* * *

Dave’s lazy smirk drops to the floor below at Karkat’s partial review of the book. He glares, offended, at the literary work on his lap. He’s never trusting books again.

The blond sighs and puts down the empty can of soda on his desk, along with the book, and sits up, chewing on his lower lip.

TG: aw what seriously  
TG: that uh  
TG: that sucks  
TG: your book not being good i mean  
TG: btw your names not stupid man  
TG: and just a parenthesis i use dude and man purely as gender neutral vocatives ok your sexualitys safe with me  
TG: anyway what i was saying was  
TG: if there are people called idk swifer and gwhenniff then as an inhabitant of the same world that allows for a X Æ A-12 to be born and named and not taken away from their parents as an act of cosmic mercy  
TG: then you should be allowed to be called a hot name like karkat without getting weird looks  
TG: if youre getting side eyed then its probably cause youre banging gorgeous  
TG: dont worry i wont ask you for nudes or feet pics i already have my fair share sent to me  
TG: not that ive ever asked for them especially from weird moustached dudes  
TG: which is not relevant to the matter at hand and that is  
TG: your uninspired amazon book review  
TG: ok you said you didnt really click with lil liz g  
TG: but even if shes a post modern bourgeois white chick  
TG: isnt there like a universal abstract bullshit moral of the story or something you can take out of it?  
TG: like when you fuck up massively eg you dated a girl for years cause you thought that was the right thing to do only for her to break up with you and inform you of your own lack of romantic feelings for her with so much gentleness since shes your best friend that you felt like crying  
TG: a completely fictional scenario btw  
TG: in a shitty fucking situation like that it might seem like nothing good can possibly come out of there  
TG: like that coffee brand collected from leopard dumps  
TG: maybe theres something good you can reap from it idk  
TG: just  
TG: whatever i guess you must pick up and drop readings all the time haha  
TG: forget what i said

Back in his room, Dave glances at the battered cover of the second-hand copy he’d bought of the book. For once ever since Rose had gotten too busy to send him snippets of her works in progress, he’d been minimally motivated to read something longer than a Wikipedia page. Let’s face it, though, he’d probably never even finish it.

TG: so whatcha wearing

* * *

Ok. Time out.

Huh. Karkat seems to have struck a nerve. Interesting. But not exactly cool. Rewind.

CG: OK, MAYBE I WAS BEING A LITTLE OVERLY BLASÉ. IT'S REALLY NOT THAT BAD  
CG: I MEAN IT HAS MANY OF ENJOYABLE PARTS WHERE THERE'S LOT OF CULTURAL AND INTELLECTUAL DISCOVERY, AND SHE GETS TO EXPLORE THE WORLD AND HER OWN INNER LIFE ALL BY HERSELF.  
CG: IT'S JUST... GETTING IMMERSED IN A STORY MAKES YOU REALIZE THE THINGS YOU'RE MISSING AND THAT OTHER PEOPLE OFTEN TAKE FOR GRANTED.  
CG: I GUESS. SOMETIMES.  
CG: I DIGRESS.  
CG: THE BOOK IS ENTERTAINING AND HAS KIND OF A FREE SPIRIT TO IT. YOU SHOULD GIVE IT A CHANCE.

He keeps re-reading their conversation with a hum of recognition.

CG: THAT STORY, ABOUT THE  
CG: ABRUPT ENDING RELATIONSHIP.  
CG: THAT REALLY HAPPENED, DIDN'T IT. IT SOUNDED PERSONAL.  
CG: TO YOU?  
CG: WE DON'T HAVE TO TALK ABOUT IT IF IT MAKES YOU UNCOMFORTABLE. BUT WE DEFINITELY CAN IF IT DOESN'T.  
CG: WHATEVER YOU FEEL LIKE. DAVE.  
CG: BY THE WAY, THAT LEOPARD COFFEE YOU MENTIONED IS CALLED KOPI LUWAK, AND IT'S ONE OF THE MOST EXPENSIVE AND SUPPOSEDLY DELICIOUS COFFEES IN THE WORLD.  
CG: I KNOW THIS BECAUSE I LOVE COFFEE.  
CG: DO YOU LIKE COFFEE, DAVE?

An amused smirk paints onto the troll's face.

CG: AND YOU MOST FUCKING DEFINITELY DON'T GET TO KNOW WHAT I'M WEARING.

* * *

As Dave waits for his reply, he stretches his hands and cracks his fingers, twiddling them with fake idleness. Then, his screen starts pinging and he looks back.

Oh shit. She’s figured it out. Fuck, of course she’s figured it out, it’s not like he was subtle in his word diarrhea and the girl has got half a brain cell. Damn.

Still, she was… pretty nice. Didn’t really call him a wuss or a jerk or anything of the sort. He finds himself leaning in towards the screen. She deserves an at least decent answer, and, for some reason, he feels like he can trust her with so much.

TG: to be honest  
TG: yeah  
TG: i mean were good now shes even met someone else and i honest to god am fucking ecstatic for her  
TG: shes amazing and deserves all the happiness in the world  
TG: in her place i dont know if i wouldve been as chill with the breakup as she was so  
TG: mad respect for her  
TG: however shes water under the bridge rest assured the dave bae slot is still up for taking if i were you id take dibs on it asap  
TG: folks are coming from three towns over to line up on my doorstep  
TG: so many fine suitors available but im a man of work karkat ill loyally give you priority you have full access to my back door  
TG: wait i mean  
TG: fuck  
TG: can we delete messages on this thing no we cant i cant fucking believe this  
TG: alright i stand by what i said then youre always welcome in the striderhold  
TG: which by the way is always filthily stocked with coffee because its an essential fucking prop to some jobs  
TG: and i also enjoy it in fancy bucketful doses that i manage to fit into my thematic mug  
TG: anyway its too bad you dont want to tell me about your present state of undress guess ill just have to assume youre talking to me full in the nude

The blond stops, hesitating. He bites his lower lip, eyes flickering up and down from the keyboard to the screen.

TG: about the book though  
TG: is there something you want that youre missing?

And then, something in the most profound layers of Dave’s personality, related perhaps to some complex web of subconscious strata of trauma and defense mechanisms or, alternatively, to his shitty fucking sense of humor and total inability to take anything seriously for more than perhaps two minutes, compels him to add:

TG: besides dick ofc

* * *

Amidst the avalanche of fumbling play on words and plain old faux-pas that are making him softly snort, something makes Karkat freeze for an instant. It takes a couple tries to fully absorb some of his latest reply.

Oh fuck. _Dave Strider might be a sweet kid after all._ A pointed chill goes down his spine. His brow is firmly furrowed.

Of course he's not on a dating website for nothing, the objective is to form a connection with someone. But. It is so much easier to blow people off, no bond, no one gets hurt. But this. This is how things get complicated, and a part of him doesn't want to, just to feel unworthy and unwanted afterwards. A part that's already anticipating failure and ache. The part of himself he hates for being a fucking coward.

Opening up to someone is so fucking hard, and the person in front of him did just that. Karkat's not about to ignore that.

CG: YOU KNOW. IT MIGHT NOT HAVE WORKED OUT AS A RELATIONSHIP, BUT IF MY OPINION IS WORTH A DAMN, NOT THAT IT REALLY SHOULD BUT.  
CG: I THINK SHE PROBABLY HAS A PRETTY FUCKING GOOD FRIEND IN YOU. SO YOU SHOULD TRY TO CHERISH THAT.

Karkat's lip finds itself caught in between his teeth as he hesitates. He thinks back, of an even greater maw full of sharklike fangs, a grating cackling laugh, and moments of real fun and intimacy that he misses.

Often pathologically private, his instinct is to resist sharing his story with Terezi under any casual circumstances. But...

Fuck it. Reciprocity it is.

CG: FOR WHAT IT'S WORTH, YOU'RE NOT ALONE THERE. I'VE BEEN THERE.  
CG: I WAS WITH A GIRL AND  
CG: THE SPECIFICS DON'T REALLY MATTER. BUT IT DIDN'T END WELL. IT WAS MY FAULT, I COULDN'T KEEP IT TOGETHER.  
CG: THE POINT IS, IT'S NOT THAT EASY TO BE ON THE SAME PAGE, NO MATTER HOW MUCH YOU CARE. SO DON'T TORTURE YOURSELF. YOU DID YOUR BEST.  
CG: AS FOR WHAT I'M MISSING...  
CG: I DON'T THINK I'VE MANAGED TO NAME IT. YET.

His smile is not just on the outside anymore.

CG: SO, DAVE. DO YOU LIKE COFFEE.

* * *

For a moment, Dave just stares at his computer screen. His breath is coming in and out at a quicker pace. There are many feelings involved in that aspect. Anxiety, for once. Fear, for another.

However, under the layers of insecurity from showing weakness to the wrong people (who were supposed to be the right ones), there’s also a bubbly, stupid kind of heat blooming in his chest. Without thinking, Dave covers his mouth and leans on his desk.

What he’s just described that transpired with Jade is, under all possible angles, was a pretty fucking big mess-up on his part. No matter how you look at it or how you phrase it, Dave was the douchiest of douchebags in that relationship. He knows full well he should be running to Jade right now and kissing her feet for having mercy and not absolutely wrecking him when they split.

Then again, she’s the sweetest person ever. It’s almost pathological. And genetic, too, if we’re going by how John is just as goofy, if only a bit more annoying.

He loves them both to death and back.

TG: thanks  
TG: i dont know about her but i think shes pretty fucking rad  
TG: and uh  
TG: from what youre saying youre not listening to your own comforting speech  
TG: if shit doesn’t work out no matter how much you care then its not your fault either right  
TG: so you also shouldnt torture yourself and say it was your fault  
TG: boom therapy problem solved next  
TG: a case of split personality huh why please do come in mr timaeus lets glue that bad boy right up hell be as good as new in a jiffy

Dave’s mind processes the last message, freezes, then rewinds. Oh.

TG: also coffee bitter hot caffeine yes me likes so are you bisexual  
TG: not that thats a problem i mean more fish in the ocean to bang right  
TG: or something like that  
TG: i have some friends who are bi too  
TG: ugh sorry they always make fun of people who say that and now im saying the exact thing they mocked me into avoiding to say  
TG: but like  
TG: just checking up on that status  
TG: im still game right

* * *

Karkat bangs his head against the keyboard in frustration at his thinly veiled suggestion going over Dave's head for the second time, then deletes the 'FLSDFJKLK;,KJLF' that appeared on the message box. Good Mother Grub, with how well the blond's been able to read him several times now, his inability to take a hint is nothing short of astounding.

Maybe he'd consider trying again if he didn't have a ton of human sexuality bullshit to retort at waiting for him.

CG: TELL ME SOMETHING STRIDER, ARE YOU PEARSEXUAL? DO YOU HAVE A SPECIFIC LABEL FOR EVERYTHING THAT APPEALS TO YOU THAT YOU NEED TO STAMP RIGHT ON THE MIDDLE OF YOUR FOREHEAD FOR RECOGNITION? BECAUSE THE OTHER PEARSEXUALS AND *ESPECIALLY* THE ORANGESEXUALS NEED TO KNOW WHAT YOUR LEVEL OF ATTRACTION TO SPECIFIC FRUITS IS AT ALL TIMES, LEST THERE'S A CASUAL MISUNDERSTANDING OF SOME SORT THAT DESTROYS THE EARTH.  
CG: YES HELLO MR. DELI ATTENDANT, I WILL HAVE THE BEEF, MELTED CHEESE AND ONION HOAGIE COMBO. WHY YES I AM INDEED A CHEESESTEAKSEXUAL, I SEE THAT THIS WAS CLEAR FROM MY INCONSEQUENTIAL ORDER AT YOUR ESTABLISHMENT. THANK YOU VERY MUCH AND KEEP THE FUCKING CHANGE.  
CG: WHO THE HELL CARES, IS MY POINT. NO ONE FUCKING SHOULD, IT'S YOUR BUSINESS.  
CG: I SEE PEOPLE, NOT WALKING ARBITRARY STEREOTYPES.  
CG: AND IF SOMEONE MOCKS YOU FOR THAT, YOU CAN SUCKER PUNCH THEM RIGHT IN THE CROTCH FOR ME BECAUSE THEY'RE MORE FULL OF SHIT THAN THE LOAD GAPER THEY SIT ON FIRST THING IN THE MORNING.  
CG: YOU MIGHT WANNA TELL MR. TIMAEUS TO RESCHEDULE WITH YOUR SECRETARY BECAUSE "THE DOCTOR" MIGHT NEED A TUNE UP OF HIS OWN BY REASON OF INTENSE OBSESSION WITH HUMAN SEXUAL ORIENTATION.

* * *

Dave physically reels from that onslaught. Alright, not so much, but he does wince audibly.

What hurt more, though, is that Dave probably fits the criteria for being on the receiving end of that sucker punch. And some other people in his family too.

TG: yeesh ok sorry sore spot huh  
TG: whoever came up with the saying doesnt hurt to ask clearly doesnt know jack shit about inquiries  
TG: but yeah now i think i get whats this sites deal  
TG: thank you for your continued ranting services ms vantas  
TG: ive been fed enough proof and thoroughly read  
TG: this is one hell of a scoop local rapper drops dead  
TG: found afloat in a pool with a post it that said  
TG: this hashs been p cool but i must be off to bed  
TG: yeah  
TG: anyway talk to you soon i guess  
TG: see ya

* * *

Karkat sits in silence staring at the screen, dumbfounded. His heart has long since sunk past his stomach, down to his feet and through the floor. It's probably currently getting out the building's front door, rolling down the street and round the corner, getting as far away from him as possible.

He looks down at his hands on the keyboard as if looking for something to blame. They promptly clench into fists, which he presses against his scrunched tight eyes, uselessly hoping that the thick, miserable lump in his throat will subside.

_Dammit_.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're initially updating twice a week while we have the goods ready, so stay tuned! ;) <3

As Dave cowardly absconds from the chat, he’s painfully aware that’s a low move. He doesn’t really know what triggered it, but maybe it has to do with the fragile topic of sexuality. It just…seems like a can of worms he doesn’t really want to open. Or be near to. Or look at for too long, for that matter.

He chews on a nail for a bit, wondering if he should go back and apologize. No, he did nothing wrong, and he’s not going to chase a girl desperately, no matter how hot she makes him and how much he wants to talk to her.

So Dave logs off and pulls up one of his blogs.

After a while, he gets side tracked when he spots a user with a colored flag on their icon. He licks his lips and taps his fingers rhythmically over the keyboard before pulling up a new tab.

* * *

Dave Strider is going to chase a girl desperately because of how hot she makes him and how much he wants to talk to her.

He’s actually surprised at how long it takes for him to go back to pestering her. The blond spends the whole week entertaining the thought of sending a message ‘by accident’ to measure her reaction, or maybe something equally stupid and douchey, but finally slaps himself into apologizing. It’s as if he’s learned nothing from Jade.

It’s Thursday night and he’s back from another branch of business he occasionally manages to land during daytime. He takes a shower and sits down with a cup of instant noodles in front of his computer. 

His eyes land on the book atop the desk. Dave has managed to read a few pages and he actually likes the way it’s written. Not overly complicated, but also not too simple to the point of making him doubt it wasn’t published by a flock of supposedly precocious toddlers.

With a sigh, he opens _Spectrum_.

TG: sup quick trivia  
TG: whos a confused fucking baby who cant deal with respecting other peoples privacy  
TG: and i know that ones a pretty dead giveaway otherwise no its not mark zuckerberg  
TG: uh  
TG: ok imma try again  
TG: i guess what im trying to say is  
TG: sorry  
TG: i left on an awkward note last time  
TG: youd think an artist would be used to being told to fuck off by now but what do you know lifes a cheap decoration store full of surprises  
TG: sometimes you open a can and its serpentine sometimes its beans because the internship doesnt pay enough for having basic literacy as minimum requirement  
TG: thats especially troublesome for cashier work or cleaning you know those bottles are pretty fucking similar like why dont they use other colors besides ugly green and happy family blue  
TG: fuck im rambling again  
TG: anyway i didnt mean to come off as  
TG: damn  
TG: idk  
TG: passive aggressive  
TG: thats more my siblings vibes  
TG: so  
TG: yeah  
TG: thats really all there is to say on the matter  
TG: unless you feel like adding something which is also still valid

* * *

Today, Karkat finds a cheeto in his hair.

His fingers hold it up in front of his own face lazily, with the utmost lack of energy or interest. It hovers there eerily for a while, like an apt piece of symbolism for his whole being, life and emotions. Or something way more sane that he would think were he in a regular state of mind.

Then he eats it. Because whatever the fuck. 

Horns clang against metal headboard when he reclines back down in bed, but it doesn't so much as register. He vaguely wonders how many other pieces of rancid MSG-stuffed snacks remain lost within the unholy mess that is his unkempt nest of dark curls. He doesn't care enough to try and provide himself with an answer though.

Instead, he stares glassily in the direction of his phone. It's been blinking unassumingly for a couple of minutes. 

He's had his desktop computer turned off since... all week. There's nothing for him on there and he couldn't care less about working right now. Surprisingly enough, he had the presence of mind to hook up his palmhusk to a charger and leave it on his nightstand, before collapsing in a ball of self-pity for the foreseeable future. If Kanaya eventually calls he should probably have it on hand, if only to avoid her sending a rescue team to axe his door down, to maybe find he has finally given up for good and drowned himself in the bathtub. Or something equally undramatic. He shrugs uncaringly in response to his own train of thought.

_Sigh_. Still, he should probably check his messages for a second to prevent any axing scenarios. Not that he really cares about getting his deposit back.

...oh. It's actually the _Spectrum_ app. As if on a spring, his body sits up dizzyingly fast to stare at the screen in shock and confusion. Then he reads. And somehow it only makes him feel worse.

With a sense of defeat and sadness he previously believed only theoretically possible, he starts typing a response back.

CG: WHY ARE YOU APOLOGIZING? I SNAPPED AT YOU FOR NO REASON.  
CG: OK WAIT, I STILL THINK THE SUBJECT OF LABELING PEOPLE OVER TRIVIAL MATTERS LIKE *WHO THEY LOVE* IS PRETTY FUCKING STUPID. BUT  
CG: A SANE PERSON COULD MAKE THAT COME ACROSS WITHOUT THROWING A WIGGLER HISSY FIT TANTRUM, SO. I'M THE ONE WHO SHOULD APOLOGIZE.  
CG: SORRY.  
CG: THE TRUTH IS... IT WASN'T PROBABLY EVEN ABOUT THAT.  
CG: I HAVE A HISTORY OF. I DON'T KNOW.  
CG: FEELING LIKE AN ARBITRARY LABEL COULD RUIN MY LIFE AT ANY MOMENT. EVEN IN THIS ADMITTEDLY SAFER PLACE FOR ME, IT STILL LURKS IN THE PERIPHERY OF MY VISION.  
CG: IT MAKES ME FEEL UNSAFE ALMOST CONSTANTLY. MAYBE IT'S PARANOIA. MAYBE IT'S NOT.  
CG: IT'S COMPLICATED. I'M NOT SURE YOU WOULD BE ABLE TO UNDERSTAND.  
CG: HONESTLY, MAYBE I. WE. SHOULD  
CG: ADMIT  
CG: EVEN THOUGH UNDERNEATH ALL OF YOUR GOOFY IMPUDENCE AND PRETEND BRAVADO, I...  
CG: I REALLY *DO LIKE YOU*, DAVE.  
CG: BUT I THINK WE MIGHT BE TOO DIFFERENT.

Karkat stops for an instant, tries to force his lungs to take in some air once again. Struggles to swallow around a bitter lump, more painfully than he'd like to admit. Then hammers the metaphorical nail hard into the coffin.

CG: YOU SHOULD STAY AWAY FROM ME. I WILL ONLY BE TROUBLE.

* * *

It’s taking so much longer than he expected that Dave’s just about to give up and go write some wack lyrics about cheese, maybe, just to distract himself with something, when his computer pings again. His face lights up in a mix of expectation and apprehension as he stops picking on the skin around his nails and leans in to read the next string of texts.

His expression progressively drops, taking several re-reads to put together the message being conveyed. From what he can parse, this girl seems to have some sort of heavy past.

TG: no i  
TG: i think i might understand actually  
TG: that shits difficult to shake off youre not paranoid  
TG: but its not real right  
TG: its in the past  
TG: so

Dave tries to think. He can rant about a hundred different topics and derail them into an appendix of several thousand more, but that’s not what she needs to hear right now. What’s _relevant_ to say in this kind of context?

TG: alright sorry that kinda threat wont work for me  
TG: unless youre like the youngest underage child of a mob group with a thing for older dudes in which case i for all intents and purposes declare i was NOT aware of the situation and am in no way interested in continuing this exchange  
TG: youre probably overthinking it  
TG: i dunno you sound pretty normal to me except for the edgy assortment of vocabulary  
TG: and thats part of what makes you uh  
TG: interesting  
TG: …  
TG: anyway before you dramatically sentence us to be apart because were too different  
TG: dont you want to like  
TG: take a shot at getting to know me better?  
TG: i mean i havent been on this site for long but  
TG: i have a feeling its not so easy to find someone like you so  
TG: damn thats pretty fucking pathetic isnt it  
TG: im gonna file a complaint to the owner of this domain about the alarming lack of a retconning feature for lame ass sentences typed by mind-wiped lone dudes on the internet  
TG: theyll probably laugh and tell me to go grow up and find a girlfriend already which would be pretty ironic so points for that  
TG: yeah ill stop talking now

* * *

Heh. What do you know, Karkat can still smile, even if it’s the tiniest itty bitty amused smirk. It’s been…

_Since the last time he talked to Strider._ He tries not to let the weight of that thought crush him like a ton of bricks. He dives into his latest message instead, that’ll stop the chills.

Something pings but this time it’s in his head.

CG: DO YOU ALSO  
CG: HAVE THOSE FEELINGS?  
CG: GHOSTS FROM THE PAST, MAKING YOU FEEL UNSAFE.

Karkat bites down on his lip harder than usual, wondering if this is too far. But something inside him tells him to _do it._

CG: I DON’T MEAN TO PRY. WE DON’T HAVE TO TALK ABOUT IT.  
CG: I KNOW HOW MUCH HAVING THAT SHADOW ALWAYS LOOMING OVER YOU SUCKS, AND HOW HARD IT MAKES IT TO JUST  
CG: TRUST  
CG: ANYONE.  
CG: BUT IF YOU EVER WANT TO TALK, I’M HERE. I MIGHT UNDERSTAND WAY BETTER THAN YOU COULD IMAGINE.  
CG: AND. DAVE.  
CG: OF COURSE I FUCKING WANT TO KNOW YOU.  
CG: IT’S JUST  
CG: REALLY GODDAMN SCARY, OK?  
CG: WHAT IF YOU MEET ME AND. I DON’T KNOW.

Regaining a bit of his composure and senses, he shakes his hair loose hoping more cheetos won’t fly off like he blacked out into a party chex mix bowl at a frat house. Can’t have fucking depression red flags stuck all over his body while having a real conversation, get it together Vantas.

CG: WHAT IF YOU CHANGE YOUR MIND ON SIGHT.  
CG: AND YOU HATE ME.  
CG: AND I DON’T HATE YOU.

* * *

The way Karkat sounds so... earnest, genuine gets to Dave's softer parts frighteningly fast. He feels a connection with her like he's never felt before, and it terrifies the fuck out of him.

So yeah, he gets it. Dave is no stranger to baring himself and being ripped apart by the wrong hands.

Still, he feels the strange need to fill out the hole left in her by that mistrust and maybe, possibly, someday, hold her hand while he looks back at his own shadows in the corners of his mind.

TG: yeah  
TG: i feel that  
TG: thanks, really  
TG: fears wild man  
TG: its like when youre high at a party and youre flipping your shit because you think everyone can see you staring at your hand and marveling at the wonders of the universe  
TG: but really no one gives a shit half the people are drunk the other halfs fucking in the bathroom while youre getting your panties in a twist when youre supposed to be chillaxing  
TG: so like  
TG: sometimes it helps to ignore that and put on the biggest shit eating fuckboy face you have  
TG: at least until you can be sure youre fine  
TG: but thats beside the point the thing is  
TG: we were gonna meet eventually  
TG: or were you searching for an exclusively virtual relationship  
TG: i know there are people who do it we call them cucks where i come from but now that i think of it thats probably offensive on some level  
TG: anyway i dont think i could hate you knowing youre badass and i get that youre nervous  
TG: but theres only one way to really know that right  
TG: i mean believe or not i talk even more personally  
TG: typing gives an extra few nanoseconds of brain-shit spewing delay so sometimes i can still intercept some really compromising thoughts on the way  
TG: oh fuck thats not helping my case here uh  
TG: so karkat  
TG: would you like to i dunno  
TG: go out for coffee sometime  
TG: maybe watch a movie have a feelings jam cry ourselves to sleep  
TG: or just the coffee is fine you said you liked it before right  
TG: you asked a lot of times it appeared to be a game point for me to score

As soon as he ends his projectile word vomit, Dave laces his hands and twiddles his thumbs.

* * *

Karkat snorts and chuckles loudly at the rambling oblivious gumption of the total idiot he’s developing the stupidest crush on.

CG: GO OUT FOR COFFEE, YOU SAY? THAT’S A GREAT IDEA, DAVE.

Breathless laugh escapes out of him. He couldn’t help himself.

CG: THERE’S A LIBRARY CAFÉ I ALWAYS GO TO, ON CAEGAR SQUARE. IT’S REALLY PRIVATE AND COZY, I SIT THERE TO READ ALL THE TIME. IT COULD BE NICE FOR A FIRST MEETING?  
CG: THEY HAVE BOOKS, AND CAKE, AND LO-FI MUSIC.  
CG: AND COFFEE.  
CG: UM.  
CG: I AM DEFINITELY NOT LOOKING FOR AN EXCLUSIVELY ONLINE RELATIONSHIP.  
CG: I MEAN  
CG: IT’S ABSOLUTELY FINE, IF THAT’S WHAT YOU WANT. TO JUST SIT AND TALK ENDLESSLY. ON AN INTELLECTUAL LEVEL.  
CG: THEY SAY RELATIONSHIPS HAPPEN IN THE BRAIN, ANYWAY.  
CG: RIGHT?  
CG: HAHA.

A facepalm will do to avoid slap-mashing an endless string of frustrated nonsense on the keyboard at his own conversational incompetence. _YOU’RE FUCKING AWKWARD EVEN ON PAPER_ , his gaping asshole of a brain lashes out at him.

CG: BUT NO I  
CG: WOULD ACTUALLY REALLY ENJOY MEETING YOU.  
CG: IT FEELS IMPORTANT TO HAVE A MORE FACE TO FACE CONVERSATION AND, I DON’T KNOW.  
CG: ALSO BE CLOSE TO THE PERSON. UNOBSTRUCTED.  
CG: MAKE A MORE  
CG: DIRECT  
CG: KIND OF CONNECTION.

Grimacing. He's just. Yeah. Cringing at his own words. Fucking hell, _why is his moronic thinkpan letting this happen._

CG: ARE YOU FREE THIS WEEKEND?

* * *

If Dave hadn’t spoken to this woman a few times already, this is the part where he’d suspect them of catfishing or something. However, at this point, he’s already familiar with Karkat’s genuine, direct form of communicating what she feels. Well, at least that’s what he assumes.

Before he knows it, he’s holding back a wide grin.

TG: damn kk thats hipster as fuck  
TG: if you show up with a hair bun and order a frappuccino i might believe im in a self insert fanfic written by a 14 yo  
TG: fuck am i a kpop idol in this scenario  
TG: ive got the swag but do i appeal to minors with an idealistic frame of what relationships are  
TG: that is the question that i could probably have refrained from asking  
TG: so back on topic yet again boy were on a roll today huh  
TG: ok karkat babe lemme say this  
TG: i really dig our shooting the shit like this and all  
TG: but i fully intend to bang you  
TG: that sounded more romantic in my head btw  
TG: i think that is also true for most of the gems i spill  
TG: uh well in short  
TG: im in no rush  
TG: however i do want to meet you and go about doing whatever together even if its i dunno feeding the ducks in the park  
TG: i feel like id be able to enjoy it either way

Dave facepalms. His face is burning, his heart racing. God, that was really fucking mushy. He groans and sticks his fingers back onto the keyboard.

TG: and uhh if i understood it right thats a daytime date right  
TG: alright that works for me how about sunday? is your instagram photoshoot location café open then?  
TG: i usually work overnight on fridays and saturdays so  
TG: sundays are my best shot if i want to look slick for that hot piece of vantass  
TG: give you that *direct connection* you want ;)  
TG: responsibly ofc i passed my sex ed classes  
TG: by the way karkat  
TG: why do you type in all caps?  
TG: is your lock key broken or are you just angry 24/7  
TG: oh man now im imagining like a five feet gremlin shaking a little fist in the air cursing the traffic for not stopping because no one can see them on the crossing  
TG: hahah thats so fucking cute goddamn

* * *

CG: OH, SO BECAUSE HIPSTERS HAVE APPROPRIATED LIBRARY CAFÉS LIKE PSEUDOBOHEMIAN LEECHES, NO ONE ELSE CAN ENJOY THEM?  
CG: I'M ACTUALLY ASKING, YOU TELL ME. YOU SEEM TO HAVE A BETTER GRASP ON THE IRONIC HIPSTER SUBCULTURE.  
CG: I JUST LIKE COFFEE AND READING, IS THAT TOO MUCH TO ASK.  
CG: MAYBE I'LL OPEN MY OWN COFFEE SHOP. *PEOPLE WITH BOTH BEARDS AND PONYTAILS NOT WELCOME*.  
CG: *REFRAIN FROM ENTERING IF YOU HAVE MORE THAN FOUR PIERCINGS TOTAL ON YOUR BODY*.  
CG: *FOR PEOPLE WHO LIKE HOT BEVERAGES AND BOOKS ONLY, NO DOUCHEBAGS TAKING PICTURES OF THEIR SCONES ON THEIR IPHONES.* ETCETERA.  
CG: AND ABSOLUTELY NO GODDAMN FRAPUCCINOS.  
CG: FRAPUCCINOS ARE A SUGAR-CRAMMED GELATINOUS AFFRONT TO THE COFFEE GODS, DAVE.

Karkat blinks at his screen repeatedly, almost audibly hard, finally scrunching his eyes closed for a couple seconds and opening them back up, just in case what he's seeing is a mirage. But no, the words stay up there, immovable and perfectly readable.

CG: STRIDER.  
CG: I'M SORRY  
CG: YOU  
CG: "FULLY INTEND TO BANG ME"?  
CG: AND THAT SOUNDED ROMANTIC IN YOUR HEAD.  
CG: ...OK.

This is an incredibly unsmooth flippant idiot he's talking to. So. Why is it working so well? This shouldn't destroy his focus like this. 

It isn't helping that Karkat's not sure of how much the blond's kidding. He'd say it's about 80% a joke at least, but that remaining uncertain 20% is not helping his ragged breathing or his pounding heartbeat. Not to mention his presence of mind.

..the inner part of his thighs is a bit sticky with sweat, and that makes his train of thought go flying off the rails and land onto a whole different track altogether.

CG: ...SUNDAY AFTERNOON COULD BE GOOD.  
CG: AND BY THE WAY YOU COULDN'T HAVE BEEN MORE WRONG.  
CG: I'M 5'3" AND A HALF.

* * *

“Ahaha!”

Dave is startled by his own loud laughter at Karkat’s bitter rant about hipsters. Damn, this chick’s a riot.

He zones out as he stares at the screen, trying to picture her in his mind. He wouldn’t say he’s picky about anyone’s appearance but his, yet, it’s some sort of stimulating exercise. Now that he has her height to go by, he imagines a pouty face staring at him with a frown, then blushing when he says something purposefully ridiculous.

As he reads over the words again, smirking at the stilted string of messages about his bold declaration, Dave bites his lip. The way she uses sarcasm like there’s no tomorrow and pokes fun at stereotypes is pretty fucking entertaining.

Also, it’s kinda hot.

Dave snaps back into reality and realizes his face is burning. Shit.

TG: hehe fucking preach sis  
TG: id be a devoted customer at your little haven  
TG: get pumped so full of caffeine id vibrate in and out the door  
TG: youd always see me kinda censored because id be buzzing faster than the speed of light  
TG: every time id come up to the counter id leave a napkin with my number  
TG: youd complain about patrons leaving garbage and throw it out into the trash  
TG: and id sit there with my face smushed against the window rain pouring down the glass panes  
TG: the camera zooms in on my face of desolation  
TG: will the smexy barista realize the horrible mistake?  
TG: will the heartbroken stud move on or fight for love?  
TG: stay tuned for the next episode  
TG: btw i didnt mean i want to bang you right away  
TG: well ok i do  
TG: but im not *expecting to* right away  
TG: however i am a fan of surprises  


His fingers tap a beat onto the side of his keyboard.

TG: sweet sunday it is  
TG: do you wanna grab lunch before that or  
TG: just go straight for dessert?  
TG: and by that i wholeheartedly mean me not the cake  
TG: but whichever fancies your appetite most  
TG: i promise not to be too offended if you choose the cake  
TG: one oclock then chibi  
TG: ill meet you at your hipsters joint?

* * *

CG: WELL DAVE, I PROMISE WHEN I OPEN MY FICTIONAL COFFEE JOINT I WILL THOROUGHLY EXAMINE EVERY SINGLE NAPKIN FOR HIDDEN MESSAGES, NO MATTER HOW MUCH NAUSEA THAT PERSPECTIVE FILLS ME WITH.  
CG: I WILL PERIODICALLY LOOK OUT THE WINDOW FOR DUMBASSES LONGINGLY PRESSING THEIR FACES UNSANITARILY AGAINST THE GLASS, ESPECIALLY ON RAINY DAYS.  
CG: LEST WE MISS THE OPPORTUNITY TO REENACT THIS CLICHÉD ROMANTIC PLOT. GODS FORBID.  
CG: ALTHOUGH IN REALITY IT WOULD BE TERRIBLE FOR BUSINESS.  
CG: “EXCUSE ME, WHO’S THAT MAN ABOUT TO CRACK HIS STUPID SHADES FROM HOW TIGHT HE’S SQUEEZING AGAINST THE WINDOWPANE?”  
CG: “OH THAT’S JUST DAVE STRIDER. HE SPENDS HIS DAYS THERE, STALKING THE OWNER. HE’S WEIRD AND HAS NO LIFE.”  
CG: “DON’T LOOK AT HIM, LIL BECKY. WE’RE LEAVING.”

Something occurs to him suddenly. Dave hasn’t seen his face yet, and that fills his stomach with nervous buzzing. He decides to stomp that down, however, in favor of more practical concerns.

He reaches over to grab a piece of clothing that’s been hanging from his headboard for a while. Kanaya gave it to him, the dual loving gesture of a friend who wants him to have a thoughtful and beautiful handmade gift, and also get over some hangups he has over certain colors related to certain blood mutations. She’s efficient and deliberate like that, and truth be told he has yet to wear it.

CG: BUT YOU KNOW, YOU CAN’T STALK ME IF YOU DON’T KNOW HOW TO FUCKING FIND ME.  
CG: SO I’LL BE WEARING A BRIGHT RED SCARF.  
CG: I’M THE SHORT ONE WITH THE MESS OF CURLY BLACK HAIR AND A BRIGHT RED SCARF. BETTER MAKE A NOTE OF IT STRIDER.  
CG: IF YOU WANDER OVER TO THE WRONG PERSON AND ACCIDENTALLY MEET AND FALL IN LOVE AND MARRY AND HAVE THREE CHILDREN AND A HOUSE IN THE SUBURBS  
CG: THAT WOULD ACTUALLY BE A REAL FUCKING CUTE TROPE COME TRUE MOMENT.  
CG: BUT I’LL BE SUPER PISSED.

Snorting amusedly, he resolves to call Kanaya later. He needs to finally thank her for the Wriggling Day gift and tell her of all the exciting stuff happening lately, he thinks while his feet are on a runaway nervous tap.

CG: AND DAVE.  
CG: LET’S JUST START WITH LUNCH.

* * *

Dave’s face is open in a wide grin as he reads her replies on the screen. Fuck, this is really happening. This is 100% no-shitting tax-tier lawsuit-level legit.

TG: haha youre dope vantas  
TG: if i chat up the wrong person ill find you by the fumes youll expel into the skunky air of the post grunge café you chose dont worry about it  
TG: but yeah  
TG: sounds good  
TG: i guess this time ill literally see you soon then  
TG: until our date, tinycheeks <3

Even minutes after the blond’s logged off the site and has moved on to making dinner and cleaning the apartment, the giddiness hasn’t subsided. Dave catches himself chuckling at the recollection of random snippets of their conversation, then proceeds to chide himself for being so lame.

But…he was allowed this, right?

After all that went down with his family and Jade, Dave enters any kind of human relationship with the bar set down low. He’s aware that he’s a handful, at times overbearing and dependent, so he makes sure to put up some defenses to avoid the rejection from getting to him, such as humor. After all, when you’re joking 99% of the time, people can’t tell the remaining 1% apart from the rest.

In conclusion, Dave decides to not think too much about it. He does end up composing his draft for the cheese rap later that evening, and stays up late researching about dumb romantic gestures and what to NOT say to pass off as a regular, functioning human being. When he ends up in a WikiHow rabbit hole and gets to one titled ‘How to Behave Like a Vampire’, Dave decides that he’s had enough of the Internet for the day and goes to sleep after taking his meds.

The next days go by blessedly fast. He spends Friday and Saturday basically either working or setting things up, and as soon as he’s done on Sunday morning, Dave dashes back home to nap for an hour before getting ready for his…date. It’s been so long, it still feels weird to call it that. Especially since he’s never seen the girl before.

During the process of fixing his hair, dressing up and making sure he doesn’t smell like the sweat he already feels dripping down the dip of his back, the guy has to stop to breathe a few times. He feels like a teenager going to prom with his date, except he never got to go to prom.

After he’s done, he looks in the mirror, shades off. He’s wearing a navy blue pair of jeans, just his size (he’d grown out of wearing soggy pants, thank fuck), a white shirt with a stylized scratched record, his trademark logo, and a red jacket. Good enough, he thinks, combing the longer part of his bangs over one side of his undercut.

Dave spends another minute assessing his appearance with his lip between his teeth and frowns at some of the tiny scars on his face. There’s also the matter of the color of his irises. He could wear his lenses, but they dry up his eyes like sponges under the sun… When he glances at the clock, he nearly jumps, then slips his glasses onto his nose, grabs his wallet and keys and darts out of his home.

He manages to find a spot near the café to park his battered ass pickup just in time to get there only three minutes late. On the way, however, something akin to the color of his eyes catches his attention and he stops by a flower shop before walking down the street to the establishment.

The man’s heart is hammering in his chest when he opens the door, a chime far too loud announcing his arrival from over the entrance. Dave steps in, looking around and hiding the rose behind his back as he looks for Karkat, pulse racing in his ears while he tries to breathe correctly, like his therapist’s told him a hundred thousand fucking times.


	3. Chapter 3

_“We have to continually be jumping off cliffs and developing our wings on the way down.” ~Kurt Vonnegut._

Karkat sits practically vibrating in the corner, in a booth by the tinted windowfront. _Cat’s Cradle_ twists and turns in his clawed hands, the used book serving no purpose but that of a tool for manual fixation for the last hour. He thought he could reread some of one of his favorite classics, romance literature is not his only genre of interest after all. _I’m not a one-note person_ he hears in his head while spacing out at the old wrinkled soft-cover, then immediately asks himself who the hell he’s trying to prove something to.

It has been impossible to focus on reading though, the words scrambling before his eyes due to his otherwise preoccupied brain. If he has to stare vacantly at the word _karass_ once more, he might throw up. That would definitely be the reason his stomach is upset, and nothing more. Maybe that’s why his half-full cup of cortado also sits abandoned and cold on the small stone table.

Noticing his body is threatening to shrink through the booth’s corner if he keeps trying to curl in on himself, he takes a deep breath that feels more shuddering than he’d like. Lowering his gaze, he stares at his black and white sneakers with intent, making them slow down their frantic tapping momentarily. He also aggressively ignores the looks of probable concern the barista is throwing at him while they move around the place, this seems like the worst possible moment to give in to his tension-fueled instincts to snarl at them and start a whole fury-and-flailing scene.

The tiny book-claden place is almost empty and quite calm, yet he feels claustrophobic like lost in a busy crowd, asphyxiated and squished against the wall. Sweat is becoming a discomfort and he tries to coerce his body into stopping by sheer force of willpower, very unsuccessfully. He pulls at his clinging clothes, doubting why he let Kanaya talk him into wearing an all-black tight t-shirt and skinny jeans combo. _Because they’ll compliment your red scarf and your scarlet eyes wonderfully,_ was her compelling argument. Bless her heart. 

His fingers briefly trace the silky fabric around his neck, suddenly feeling even more exposed and vulnerable. _This is not a safe color_ his brain tries to torture him, but he squeezes that anxiety into a tiny ball and hides it inside himself for later, because one more reason to panic might make him collapse into himself and implode the whole neighborhood. He closes his eyes for a moment, long eyelashes fluttering shut against softly freckled cheekbones.

Overthinking is his enemy, and so he tries to let his mind flow, free and formless. It touches on all the events of the past few days, caressing the parts that have made him laugh, landing on every exchange of words that has made his bloodpusher skip a beat, pulling through the fear all the warmth, closeness, moments of intimacy and rapport that have made him feel hopeful and, dare he think it, full of joy again.

When his eyes open, he sees him.

A tall, lanky vision in red, wispy blonde hair lightly flickering in the afternoon breeze, way too attractive for mortal considerations. Karkat observes with scintillating eyes his sprightly approach and how he nervously pushes the door open, and the troll’s breath catches tight in his throat.

It doesn’t fully click in until he’s right there, almost at arm’s length. In a moment that seems frozen in time, Karkat is forced into admitting, all because of this stupid dreamy human who’s got him in an emotional vice, the impact of an exhilaration he hasn’t felt in a very long time.

And, would he be willing to admit it, like he hasn’t felt ever before.

* * *

Maybe it’s his nerves clouding his vision (or maybe his rad aviators), but Dave doesn’t immediately spot her. It’s not a big place, this shouldn’t be fucking hard, jesus. His eyes skim over discreetly, as if he’s scared someone might pick up on his eagerness.

Finally, his gaze is drawn to the color of his own irises. Perhaps it’s because the shade is so similar or because he was _supposed to be looking for that, idiot,_ he doesn’t know, doesn’t care, because that means--

Dave looks up. A pair of scarlet eyes is staring right back at him, like a deer caught in the headlights of a car. A smile tugs at his lips and dies as he takes in the rest of the picture.

The person-- being standing there has gray skin, curly jet-black hair and reddish orange nubby horns peeking out. They’re small, like expected, but the angles of their body ring an alarm in Dave’s head. It’s got to be Karkat, there’s no one else who even remotely fits the description around (he checks).

He feels some sort of mental whiplash from that realization. The blond thinks of several possibilities for that huge mismatch, many of which circle back to ‘coincidence’ but it’s so bleak an explanation that he discards it every time.

Suddenly, a lot of things make a lot more fucking sense. His mind helpfully provides evidence by recalling sentences with a shit-ton of weird vocabulary and pointing out critical omissions and dismissals in their exchanges. Dave isn’t close with Rose’s girlfriend and hasn’t talked to her more than a couple of times, but when he presses his memory, some odd terms also come to mind. Oh fuck.

Karkat is a troll, yeah, okay, unexpected, but most importantly…

Karkat… is a _guy_.

An unreal number of thoughts clog his mind all at once to the point he’s pretty sure he can actually hear them aloud. Is Karkat a transsexual? Do trolls have that too? He doesn’t know how he feels about that but it’s also a possibility? Fuck, he’s sweating again. Is anybody looking? He glances around the place.

Of all people, has David fucking Strider been _catfished_???

Then, something else occurs to him, all in a day’s work. Dave is so fucking stupid. He’s heard about the _hemospectrum_ during one of Rose and Kanaya’s icy remarks about the planet’s interspecies social structure and the dumb shit that stuck with each culture to this day. Dave had interjected with a distracted comment of agreement and they’d both looked at him as if he was a toddler. Never again.

In any case, it now damns upon him that his sister has recommended him a troll dating website. _Of course_ the site wouldn’t have any need for that kind of thing, hence Karkat’s outburst that time. He should have known since the moment _Rose_ suggested it. Is she still bitter about that unfortunate comment he made a hundred years ago? Who is he kidding, of course she is.

It’s so fucking ridiculous that Dave can’t bring himself to admit he’s misunderstood something so catastrophically.

When he finally blinks and realizes he has absolutely no recollection or awareness of how much time has passed, Dave focuses on Karkat again. He thinks about turning around and leaving, but he’s seen him already. Besides…

CG: WHAT IF YOU CHANGE YOUR MIND ON SIGHT.  
CG: AND YOU HATE ME.  
CG: AND I DON’T HATE YOU.

Dave bites his lip, chest twisting. A lunch can’t hurt, right? That doesn’t make him gay, two guys can do that together as friends.

He looks around once more, licking his lips nervously, and steps up to the troll’s booth, rose still hidden behind his back. What the fuck is he even supposed to do with it now? Is it okay if he gives it platonically? This is so going to be a main topic of debate with himself in one of his showers.

“Uhh, are you Karkat?”

* * *

Karkat stares, transfixed, at the ridiculously handsome specimen of a man glancing around the room frantically, until the human’s gaze seems to finally set down on him. Still, it takes the troll a painfully uncomfortable number of seconds to regain a minimum of motor functions.

“Yes, I’m-” he tries to get up but clumsily bumps into the table, knocking it loudly and almost toppling over his stale cup of coffee, though he manages to do some damage control at the last second. _Fuckfuckfuck._

Balling up his hands into fists to mitigate the ridiculous amount of shaking he’s going through, he finally answers after a quick prayer for his voice not to give up on him.

“Ahem. I’m Karkat. And you are… Dave” he offers a shy smile.

The blond doesn’t seem to react much either way, his expression seems severe… but it’s not like Karkat can throw the first stone, after being so pants-shittingly scared out of his mind. They’re probably _both_ nervous as fuck.

“Your hair looks different from your picture.”

* * *

Karkat’s voice only accentuates Dave’s revelation, which makes his heart want to dash out of his body through his mouth. He’s still kind of static at this turn of events because he’s gotten roped into a date with a dude even though he prefers melons to bananas.

Wait, do trolls have dicks? Does this even count as a gay date?

Dave snaps out of that train of thought when the troll rattles the table. For all his pompous, crabby speech, he actually seems pretty harmless. The blond can barely wrap his head around how _small_ he is, jesus, it should be some sort of federal offense. 

He realizes the criminal is talking to him. “Uh-- oh, yeah, it’s an old pic. Lighting was shit when I was creating my profile so I just used the best I had in store,” Dave shrugs, mouth twitching up briefly when he thinks about adding a suggestive _‘disappointed?’._

That reminds him of the rose in his hand. Shit, he’s got to toss it somewhere, but now Karkat is looking at him. Fuck.

He lets the flower drop to the floor behind him and furtively kicks it aside to the hollow beneath the booth. “Nice to meet ya,” Dave says, cracking a small smile to cover up the fact he’s experiencing three different intensity of earthquakes in his brain at the moment. Just to make it even more awkward, because some random voice tells him humans normally initiate physical contact upon meeting, he holds out his hand to Karkat.

Please end me, gods.

* * *

Dave is tending him his hand?! _Breathe. This is a thing humans do, it’s not that weird. You have lived on this planet for how many years, Vantas?? You can do this._

He takes the human’s hand and squeezes it gingerly. Something in his alien pan tells him _this is most definitely not the right way to perform this interaction_ , but it’s gonna have to do. “It’s nice to finally meet you too.” Dave’s skin feels so soft and warm.

There’s an awkward moment of silence. _Again_. Karkat looks up at the human expectantly with wide eyes. It’s really hard to read him with those glasses on. And he’s the blondest person he has ever seen. Huh.

_He is not smitten._

Eventually he remembers to withdraw from that strange handshake, a little too fast maybe. Karkat’s nervousness and the blond’s stoicism mix in a weird way in his mind, resulting in an impromptu anxiety confession.

“I hope you weren’t too shocked when you saw me…” Feeling Dave’s pointed glance, he rushes to continue explaining, though in a softer tone of voice. “Because I’m a mutantblood. It’s a hard topic to bring up, so… sorry if it caught you off guard.” He bites his lip. “I know it’s usually a non-issue on Earth but… you never know.” He looks around as if expecting someone nearby to confirm his suspicions that _it’s not ok for him to be that way_. A couple walks past them on their way out, showing no reaction of any kind. "So. I am a mutant. Now you know."

“Um. Anyway. Would you like to sit? And order something? They have really good apple tarts here.” He rubs his palms against his jeans, wishing that they would _fucking stop sweating._

* * *

When Karkat takes his hand, Dave’s whole body burns. Why is his hand so _hot_??? Is he ok? Does he have a fever? Is this normal for trolls?

It’s because his eyes are transfixed on their joined hands that he’s caught unaware by the harsh withdrawal of Karkat’s arm, which snaps him back to reality. His head whips up to him.

Dave tenses up when Karkat starts speaking, then relaxes a bit when he goes off in another direction. “It’s chill, but uh. What do you mean, ‘mutant blood’?”

He realizes he’s still standing. Is he really going to go through with this?

Dave looks back at the café, the baristas chatting, some patrons reading, some others on their phones. He seemed to be safe here, no judging eyes. No whispers. No shadows.

Oh what the hell, why the fuck not. If anyone asks, they’re two bros hanging out. By the end of the day he’ll tell him he’s not interested and that’s it, they can still be friends, right? They barely know each other, it shouldn’t hurt.

The thought squeezes his throat.

“Wait, apple tarts? Damn, you’re driving a hard bargain here, Vantas,” he drawls, then scoots into the booth diagonally from Karkat and immediately adopts a position that would make a physiotherapist die from sheer horror. “Though, and not that I mind eating a meal out of order, mind you, I’m a bad boy myself, but aren’t you hungry?”

* * *

Dave’s question reverberates loudly in the troll's head. Sitting in the corner across from his date, his body starts curling in on itself again defensively. Karkat inadvertently twists his fingers into the red gauze around his neck. But… no. _He’s human, and he doesn’t even know what a mutant is_. The fight-or-flight response simmers down a little.

“Trolls… we are not supposed to have red eyes.” He leans over slightly and looks directly at Dave so he can observe his irises. “It denotes the color of our blood. In the hemospectrum… the troll caste system, there is no mutant candy red.” Even aware of who he’s talking to, his eyes dart down in deep-ingrained shame. “Back in Alternia… I’m not supposed to exist. Over the hue of my eyes and blood.” He snorts and looks back up at the blond smirking bitterly, hoping he will understand but not holding his breath.

“I know something like that is probably hard to grasp for you. It sounds so backwards, I wouldn’t blame you for thinking it’s an _aberration_ -” he’s started gesticulating wildly, very much on Vantas brand, when his hand accidentally slaps his ratty old book. Which goes flying off. Right onto Strider’s lap. Startled, he rushes to apologize and remove it, then he _realizes what the fuck he’s doing_ and freezes halfway _there_. 

Feeling the boiling heat on his face, he practically whips his whole body in the opposite direction, wishing the ground would open up and swallow him. He’s trying to keep his face pointed as away as fucking possible from the human when… oh.

“There’s something behind this booth.” He leans down to inspect it, anything to flee from this mortification even momentarily, and he reaches for what looks like a green stalk.

It’s a lovely long-stem rose. Sitting back, Karkat observes it with curiosity and mild confusion, looking around for a spell to see if somebody dropped it and finding no one. For just a instant, he closes his eyes and leans into the flower’s scent, losing himself in the moment, trying to quell an unexplained ache, the atmosphere creating an instinctual sourness in his stomach. When he opens his eyes, he’s not sure of how much time has passed. 

Flashing a quick look at his companion, he bashfully puts the rose down on the table and nervously runs his claws through the back of his curly hair.

“I could eat. And we don’t have to go straight to dessert.”

* * *

Dave unabashedly watches Karkat from behind the shield of his sunglasses. The way he curls into himself, the tips of his teeth peeking out when he talks (isn’t it dangerous to french kiss like that? Not that he’s considering it, of course. Just wondering, you know. For science), his eyes shifting nervously. Dave’s own leg is shaking in sync with the pace of his thoughts, which is anxious and fast.

What Karkat’s reporting is pretty fucking unfair. The blond frowns. He supposes humanity’s got some of that too, wanting people dead for the color of their skin of who they want to fuck, but it doesn’t make discriminating someone by _blood color_ any less stupid. On another note, though, _Alternia_? Fuck, he really should’ve paid more attention to History classes in school.

…As if that was up to him, anyway.

“Man, that’s tough. I mean, if you were born, you should, I dunno, be allowed to fucking live?” Dave gestures idly, then bites his cheek, thinking about his own eyes. Maybe he should show Karkat, if only to make him feel less nervous or something. Except that would make _Dave_ even more restless, so perhaps later.

Wait, _‘later’_?

The man is startled back to reality when a book falls onto his lap. Soon after comes Karkat’s hand and his body goes stiff. Then, the troll pulls back and Dave is left with an unexplored disappointment to agonize over.

He’s still staring at the book, recognizing the author. He vaguely remembers hearing someone describe his works as a ‘sarcastic acid trip gone wrong’, but he has no idea what that’s supposed to mean, so he intelligently passes on commenting that.

Or maybe he just stops paying attention to the book when he sees the rose in Karkat’s hand and his face to simultaneously be drained of blood and pumped too full of it.

When Karkat leans in to seemingly smell the bud, however, Dave’s breath catches in his throat. He shamelessly gawks at him, his eyes following the contour of his lashes down to the curve of his nose and the slant of his mouth. They linger there for longer than he’d care to admit, then Dave finally wrenches his gaze away.

He finally remembers he needs oxygen, and when he takes in another breath, his heart’s pounding in his chest.

“Uh, yeah, cool, then, what--” he clears his throat, shifting in his seat and shoving his hands in his jacket’s pockets. “What do you recommend from the menu? You’re the one with the golden bookworm fidelity card here, I’ll take your word for whatever grub you suggest.” He’s not even sure he can eat a whole meal right now, but it’s what they came here to do, after all, so.

* * *

“Hmmm. I really like the chicken salad and grubsauce sandwich.” From the blond’s expression and raised eyebrow, he can’t control a sudden and genuine belly laugh. “Don’t worry, they got mayo too. But hey, since we’re here maybe you’re up for a little interspecies cultural exchange.”

It might be Karkat’s imagination, but observing Dave his human face looks a little flushed. Of course he just got a book-shaped projectile catapulted into his groin, also known as the fact the troll’s thinkpan was working so fucking hard to ignore. _He’s not gonna reach for it this time._

“Uuh. Sorry about that.” He throws Dave a little bashful smile, hoping he won’t hold it against him. “That’s one of my favorite Earth books. It’s a satirical take on issues of war, religion and technology. But all of his stories touch on very universal topics of humanity and life if you read between the lines.” Karkat gestures passionately, only narrowly avoiding knocking something over this time. “It’s got really dark humor. Actually, I think you might appreciate that. At least I love it.” It really is one of his most prized possessions. 

His amber and scarlet eyes get unintentionally dragged onto the book, still lying on Strider’s lap. Then with barely any additional input, they keep running up his tall, slender body. Karkat not-so-quickly catches up with his basic instincts and clenches his teeth. _It doesn’t help that he’s half-lying on that booth like the smoothest blondest motherfucker on a lounge chair, and that distracting smirk is not helping his focus either._

And, his frantic troll eyes are back on the book. “So um. You can keep it! I mean you can borrow it, if you like. I think you might enjoy it.” Quickly turning his gaze back to the shop front, he idly watches the movement of patrons, way more anodyne to him but at least they’ll make him fluster way less. Nevertheless, he sports a small amused smile.

“Now I’m getting hungry. How about you?”

* * *

Karkat’s laughter makes something flutter around his stomach, so he’s grateful when the troll mentions the book because he has something to latch on to. He grabs it and opens to look inside.

Wait, ‘ _cultural exchange_ ’??? Does he--

Ok, no, Karkat’s been a blushing mess ever since they got here, he couldn’t be suggesting… _oh god this was a lousy shitty fucking idea im gonna pass out_ \--

Shit, he’s missed what Karkat was saying. Oh, he wants to lend him the book. That’s… Yeah, that won’t do, because what if the troll doesn’t take it well when Dave rejects him? He doesn’t want to pilfer the guy’s book.

Though the short chapters do pique his interest…

“It’s cool, dude. And thanks, man, but I’m still stuck on the previous one.” Fuck yeah, that’s smooth. “I’ll keep it in mind though.” No, fuck, _why did he say something like that???_

Whatever. Shit. _Just order something already and shut the fuck up, Strider._

“Yeah, your pick sounds good, but I think I’mma stick to the mayo. Not sure my guts are on the same page regarding getting to know other cultures, as per illustrated by what I call the Thai Cornucopia Incident. The firemen told me to never call them again so I would like to avoid that if possible. Anyway,” he quickly draws a breath, “should I go to the counter to order? Okay cool I’m gonna go there then, what’s it gonna be for you?” Dave asks, a bit breathless, scooting to the side to exit the booth.

He vaguely wonders if he could even have a normal date without floundering the shit out of it.

* * *

“Um, ok. I’ll have the chicken salad sandwich with grubsauce and. An apple tart? And maybe just some iced tea to drink.” Saying sorry mentally to his beloved coffee, but like hell he needs to be _even more jittery_ right now. “And remember, we’re going dutch!” He tosses the human a severe look, but it’s coupled with a slight smirk.

He watches Dave walk away towards the counter, (but _not in a leering way_ ) and he takes the opportunity to try and breathe normally for a minute. His shoulders scrunch up and he sighs, feeling really unsure about this whole situation. Something’s telling him loudly it’s not going so well and he trusts that instinct, he’s many a kind of idiot but not _this specific kind_ of idiot.

…maybe he doesn’t really like him. He could definitely understand that, no matter how eager the human seemed when they were talking online. It was always a possibility that everything might fall apart when they met… maybe he wouldn’t wanna date himself either.

Clasping his hands over the table, he stares down at them with a hint of sadness. _He really does like Dave though._ Funny, smart, sensitive with an endless supply of sarcasm checks all the boxes in the list of things Karkat might want in a person, a list he never even knew existed within him. But the blond seems really uncomfortable, though he’s not one to talk after being so on the manic edge of nervous himself. Still… he thought they had a connection, even a _spark_ every time they talked, but he’s really not feeling it right now.

Maybe it was all wishful thinking after all. _Naive, desperate, hopeless Karkat Vantas_ , he chants internally as he struggles to swallow through the tight lump in his throat.

* * *

“Gotcha,” Dave shoots him before sliding out of the bench and towards the counter.

Fuck. He’s making it awkward. It’s awkward, right? Karkat must have noticed.

Why can’t he just chill? He’s gone out with friends, this isn’t different.

Okay, it’s completely different, because none of his male friends ever thought they were on a date. Maybe he should’ve just turned around and left. Would it have been more or less painful than this? Than turning him down later?

Oh cripes hell what if he tries to _kiss_ him? And why the fuck is Dave getting hot at the thought?????

Alright, Dave, calm down. You’ve just gone quite some time without some action. You’re not gay, nor bi, you like girls. You like…

Dave subtly glances back at Karkat after he’s stuttered through his order. He’s curled into himself, seeming more tightly strung than a violin during winter. The scarf he’s wearing mixes oddly with his clothes, and the way it hides a bit of his face makes him seem even smaller than he really is. It’s pretty c--

The blond is fond of the troll and doesn’t want to hurt him, because Karkat’s a cool guy. There’s just been some miscommunication issues (entirely on Dave’s part) and he’s sure this can be solved with a calm, mature conversation. They can still be friends.

Right?

He pays for their meal up front (not because he’s anticipating things going bad and one of them or possibly both storming off it’s just because he’s the one who invited the guy) and takes their order back to the table.

“Honest to god I’ve never seen someone look so bummed about eating pie before,” Dave tries as he sets the small plates down. Karkat doesn’t deserve a bad date. “Damn, Karkat, should I have worn black clothes and a veil to this? I can probably rock a funeral tune if you want. Well more like a funeral beat and an eulogy rap but that’s likely the best you’ll get from me so take it or leave it, Vantas.” He finishes and slides back into the booth.

* * *

“I’m not sure the ghost bride look is for you, Strider.” Karkat snorts softly, but doesn’t really look directly at the blond. Instead he slides his sandwich in front of him and starts picking at it. Rare to find on Earth, the kitchen here actually has pretty good grubsauce (and no, there’s no need to find out what it’s made of or look too closely into the matter really) but once again he finds himself not having much of an appetite.

It really does feel a bit like a funeral. Or whatever the uninspiringly dreary date version of that is.

Because that tends to be his go-to emotion, a perfect blanket reaction for any given situation should you ask him, he’s starting to get angry. Not at Dave but at himself, at this date, at some kind of tension in this situation that he uncomfortably can’t locate with precision. He finishes up his sandwich, licking a smear of grubsauce off his lips and fingers, then stuffs the way-too-big morsel of apple pie in his mouth, straining to gulp it down but finally washing it down with the iced tea. His intensity is probably making his company uneasy again, but what the hell, like it was a long stretch.

Still, he wants to keep his levels of asshole below minimums, and so he tries to anchor himself and calm down. He’s shaking a bit, and his breathing is wheezy enough that he’s afraid he might hyperventilate. Landing his gaze on the closest random item possible, he picks the rose back up from the table and focuses on it, playing with the petals, poking in between them with his claws.

He still can’t look at the human though.

“Look… Strider. We don’t have to stretch this any longer. We can go our separate ways. It’ll be like this never happened, and you never have to worry about me again.”

And then, because he’s incredibly oblivious to the effect it has on possibly any living being in existence, he looks up at Dave with those bright, dejected, big doe scarlet eyes.

* * *

Dave is lulled by the false sense of comfort that good food brings, which is why he almost chokes on his last bite when Karkat drops that doomer on him.

“What wait why?” he sputters quickly, before applying the filter of reason to his linguistic apparatus.

He’s even less prepared to the look of absolute desolation on the troll’s face. It makes him feel lower than dog shit. No, dog shit at least gets ideally collected and thrown into the garbage. Dave feels like pigeon shit, that gets stuck on a suit jacket and cruelly sworn at or rots away under a roof.

Damn. He didn’t expect Karkat to see through him so easily. Alright, he hasn’t been exactly subtle, but the question is, _how much_ does the troll know about his reaction?

“Why are you saying that?” Dave decides to ask, leaning forward a little bit, jaw tense.

* * *

Wow, Karkat… wasn’t prepared for that. He’d just thought Dave would say… _ok_.

“Dave. I’m not sure what’s happening, but” his frantic gesticulating is back, “something is _very_ different. Wrong. When we talked before I-” He bites down on his lip, looking away for a moment. “I felt a real rapport with you. We were joking all the time, it was relaxed and fun. You were” his tirade turns into bitter laughter, “ _hitting on me pretty fucking hard_ , Dave! You made me laugh, and I’m not exactly a giggly kind of person… we shared personal stories with each other… there was something _REAL_ there!!” Dave flinches a little and the troll chastises himself for letting his voice go louder than he intended. 

“And now it’d be pretty obvious to anyone with half a thinkpan that… you don’t really want to be here. You’ve been eyeing the metaphorical exit since you saw me. So either illuminate me, or…”

Karkat hesitates, directing at Dave a pained look.

“Is it my fault?”

* * *

Even though he’s the one that fucking asked, Dave still feels overwhelmed at the verbal onslaught and clenches his jaw. Yeah, okay, he deserves that. Maybe he should’ve just left. But the mental image of Karkat miserably sitting in the corner all afternoon, growing sadder by the minute…he isn’t a monster. Just an asshole, apparently.

“No! No, I--” You what, Dave? You’re going to admit your mistake or chicken out?

 _Coward_.

Dave reclines on his seat, shrinking. “It’s not you, Karkat, you’re a pretty cool dude. I’m the one who misunderstood like one basic fucking thing in that website and really I should’ve seen it coming, my sister is hung up about some shit I blurted out once about horns and anyway, I thought it was weird, but I _really_ should’ve thought harder about it or I dunno, researched for half a second maybe but then I started talking to you and got involved and didn’t even consider clicking on the tab literally present at all times on my browser with info about _Spectrum_ \--” he’s rambling, he’s aware of it, so he tries to collect himself enough to say it.

The blond swallows, then looks down at the table. “I thought…you were a girl.”

* * *

“A… girl.” Karkat doesn’t understand for a few agonizing seconds, then his mind finally does the math successfully. The results want to make his stomach lurch out of his mouth.

 _Humans_.

“You’re kidding me. Tell me you’re kidding. Because that is the _stupidest thing I’ve ever heard_ _!_ ” it was close before, but he’s truly reeling now, and he finds himself on his feet. “I am a _TROLL_ Dave, we don’t even have _different-_ ” 

In a sudden moment of painful epiphany, he stares the human down with eyes wide with shock.

“You- you didn’t even _know I was an alien_ did you?! WHAT THE ACTUAL _FUCK_ DAVE. Y-you” it becomes impossible to control his stuttering. “You w-would… give up a real bond over this- this inane gender argument.” In aching defeat, his voice starts getting smaller and smaller. “I- I was right, it _was real_ , it’s just not valid now. Because I’m male.” 

He knows it’s not that simple, deep down he’s aware as ever that he should listen and be supportive, especially in a moment like this, talk it over and hash it out. Yet…

“I was… really looking forward to…”

His eyes start stinging and he turns his face away, knowing what’s coming. At least it’s blissfully easy to cover it, thanks to an inordinate amount of thick messy curls.

Blind with anger and hurt, he gets severe tunnel vision. The rejection and disappointment he’s feeling are too much to bear. His last sentence is barely audible:

“Have a nice life, Dave.”

And just like that, he’s out of there and gone.

  
  


He dashes on foot down the streets, barely avoiding pedestrians, hands in his jeans' pockets and face almost fully buried in his scarf. Thin streams of reddish tears are soaking the delicate fabric through. He’s not quite sure what he’s trying to outrun.

A few blocks down, it sinks in that he left his favorite book back at the café.  
  


But even that seems inconsequential right now.

* * *

Oh.

Okay, so.

That went horribly bad. Worse than expected, even, which is quite remarkable, given the numerous scenarios Dave had imagined. He couldn’t chase after the troll even if he wanted, since his body seems to be frozen in place.

Karkat’s words keep looping in his head, only feeding the guilt. Yeah, he was a fucking idiot to assume things, but he can’t really change who he is. Gender and sexuality matter to humans, even if it doesn’t make sense to trolls. Sure, he could have surely dealt better with this, especially by not letting it drag on, yet…

Dave is so concerned with the crater in his chest left behind by Karkat’s eruption that he takes a few minutes to collect himself enough to feel ashamed. He knows everyone’s looking at him and he’s never been so thankful for the glasses on his face.

It takes even more time for him to gather the energy to take the initiative to leave. His eyes land on the rose and linger for a few moments. The blond gets up and retrieves it, then looks down and notices Karkat’s left his book behind beside his seat. Damn it.

He said he comes here often, right? Maybe Dave can leave it with the staff so that they deliver it to him when he comes back.

Though…is he coming back here, even? Do the employees care enough to pass it on to Karkat?

Dave sighs and retrieves both items, muttering a silent ‘thank you’ to the baristas shooting him mixed looks as he drags himself to the entrance. He throws the rose in the nearest trash can and shoves his free hand in his pocket as he staggers down the street to his car. For some reason, the weather doesn’t seem so pleasant anymore.

When he reaches his pickup, Dave lets himself slump and rests his forehead on the wheel. He vaguely feels like he should be angrier. Angrier at Karkat, less angry at himself, not…sad. It’s normal for a guy to be pissed to find out the girl he’s talking to is actually a man and that blunder was his to admit, but Karkat reacted as if he’d just told him he wasn’t attracted to him because of, I dunno, his curvy nose, which had absolutely nothing to do with anything.

Still, he feels like shit on a Sunday, and you know what they say about Sundays. Dave looks at the book on the passenger seat. Great, what the fuck should he do with this?

He starts the car and goes back home. Yeah, he’s writing a sequel to the cheese rap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some art! 
> 
> Stud Dave:  
>   
> And cutie Karkat:  
>   
> \- o - o - o - o - o - o - o - o - o - o - o - o - o - o - o -
> 
> T3T


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Sorry for the wait, we have been thoroughly swamped for a bit! Enjoy <3)
> 
> Here's some art of Dave and Karkat made by us that ~~I forgot to include in the last chapter~~ we just updated Chapter 3 with! And here it is too for your peeking pleasure. <3
> 
> Stud Dave
> 
> and cutie Karkat!  
>   
> \- o - o - o - o - o - o - o - o - o - o - o - o - o - o - o -

The world is unfocused and blurry. It’s probably because his eyes are sore, and watery. Not to mention he doesn’t seem to be able to summon the strength to close them all the way, or blink with enough regularity for them not to sting.

There’s a distant melodic sound, and he buries his face on the crusty pillow. If it’s the phone again, he might just throw it down the garbage disposal chute.

…it’s not, though. Was that. The fucking _doorbell?_ Shit. Karkat groans and sluggishly pushes himself up, not managing to muster the strength to growl _son of a bitch_. His few paces to the door are dizzy and stumbling, maybe he should try to remember the last time he ate or drank anything, but really, who cares. 

If it’s that damn landlord… maybe a shouting match with the only other asshole in the world more ornery than himself will cheer him up. Who knows, sometimes miracles happen. But when he looks through the peephole, instead of a cantankerous stocky old bastard, there’s a svelte and tall figure with what his mind must be tricking him into believing are elegant lancing horns. It can’t be.

The door is flung open before he even registers reaching for the handle. “What…?! No, you’re supposed to be… in Europe!”

“Well, I suppose I figured, since my moirail would not pick up the phone _for a full Earth week_ when I tried to contact him _immediately after a significantly vulnerable moment in his life_ in order to confer, I was rightfully allowed to intervene without previous warning. Also, hello.” With a slight tilt of her head, she smiles warm as the sun.

“Kanaya…” is all he can articulate for the time being.

She lets herself in, scooting around him graceful and composed as ever, glancing around the studio apartment with patent disapproval at the messy state of things, then looking back at him with considerably more concern at his own personal state, eye bags, bed hair, week-old clothes, and who knows what else.

Her hatbox suitcase lands gingerly on the bed. _She came all the way here._

“Kanaya… you came… But what about your job? Aren’t you needed back there?”

“Somehow I am under the impression that looking out for a beloved old friend supersedes my all-critical seamstress work.”

Karkat groans as he pinches the bridge of his nose. “You are a _designer_ , Kanaya. You have a _boutique_ that you successfully launched _from the ground up_. Stop selling yourself short, fucking please.” His eyes dart from her worried face down to the floor. “I’m not more important than your job and your life.”

Kanaya minces the couple steps in between them and lays her delicate hands on his shoulders. “Stop that. Right now. I will come three times around the world every time you need me if I must.” Severe but caring jade eyes are fixed on his. “And please, do not pretend that you would not do the exact same thing for me in a flash, because I will not entertain it for an instant.”

Her long arms close tightly around his shoulders, as the smaller troll reaches around to hug her around the waist. After a moment of quiet, with tightly knit brows and a whimper, Karkat finally collapses under his own weight, with his friend holding him as she kneels down on the floor to follow. He barely represses a strangled sob against the jadeblood’s lap.

“It _hurts_ , Kanaya. Why does it hurt _so fucking much_?”

* * *

Karkat’s _Cat’s Cradle_ is still on his desk, demanding some sort of action from Dave. The man, however, can only glance at it for a few seconds before forcing himself into distraction.

He doesn’t go back to _Spectrum_. There’s no point, since it’s a troll dating website and the only troll he even wants anything to do with, whatever it is, doesn’t want anything to do with him. There is still the matter with the book, though…

The worst part is that Dave can’t shake the whole date from his head. Karkat’s initial reaction moves him with the same intensity that the way he left does. The way he looked at Dave with deep interest, if a bit shy, was something he’d never experienced before. His clumsiness clashing with his ornery speaking, the warm way he spoke when Dave through the chat when he revealed something he’s not too proud of…

The fact is, regardless of the relationship status, Dave wants to see him again.

Before that, however, he wants to sort something out, so he calls out to the two people that, by contract of blood, cannot deny him help.

\-- turntechGodhead has begun messaging tentacleTherapist --

TG: hey rose  
TG: you there  
TG: or are you waltzing through abbey road  
TG: have you found tardis yet im still fairly sure one of those phone booths is the real deal  
TG: nah just kidding i know thats fake  
TG: anyway hows your witchcraft apprenticeship  
TG: know any cool spells yet like for example say someones really angry at you and you want them to calm down  
TG: how many bat wings would i need  
TG: ok maybe youre actually busy instead of ignoring me but im keeping every possibility in mind  
TG: ttyl i guess  
TG: dont sell your soul to the devil rose believe me its not worth it

\-- turntechGodhead has ceased messaging tentacleTherapist --

Ok, so his first choice wasn’t very fruitful. The next one will probably be more successful, since as far as he knows, this guy’s hands are fused to electronic devices.

\-- turntechGodhead has begun messaging timaeusTestified --

TG: hey bro  
TT: ‘Sup.  
TG: so  
TG: youre pretty gay right  
TT: Sigh. We’ve been over this already, Dave.  
TG: yeah yeah labels cage the existencial potential for the spectrum of sexuality and all that crap i know  
TG: what i mean is you like dick right  
TT: That’s a really elementary and, again, limiting way to describe it, but fine. Yes, I “like dick”.  
TT: Why the sudden interest in my sexual preferences? Is this about Spongebob again?  
TG: what no no we cracked the spongebob enigma  
TG: hes patricksexual case closed  
TT: Thank goodness. Then what gives?  
TG: ok riddle me this  
TG: since you exclusively like dudes  
TG: what do you feel when you think about cooch  
TT: I’ll go ahead and assume you mean “women” for the sake of inclusion, but I won’t go too much into detail since I believe that’s not what you’re getting at here.  
TT: I don’t feel anything, Dave.  
TG: you dont feel disgusted or anything?  
TT: Not per se. But then again, we are considering I’m purposely thinking about it, thus I can stop at any time.  
TT: If I was forced into it, yes, I would likely feel uncomfortable.  
TT: But like I said, it’s more complicated than that. You never know, because sexuality, like I’ve been trying to get you to understand for years now, is not binary.  
TG: ok can you push through your exasperation and explain once more what you mean by that  
TT: Sure. May I inquire again as to what has piqued your interest in this subject when you’ve brushed off and/or offensively simplified every elucidation I may have attempted to provide you in the past?  
TG: damn you sound just like rose no wonder youre twins  
TG: also nothing in particular  
TG: now shower me with your spray of knowledge bro  
TT: I hope you realize how weird the shit you say is.  
TG: like youre much better  
TG: the only difference is that you type like an old man with full stops and capitals  
TT: Some of us have serious clients that require serious and practical typing on their cellphones.  
TG: sick burn dude  
TG: would be even more ill if you werent an absolute fucking shut in and that was literally your only means of communication with other human beings  
TT: You’re exaggerating. I do go out for groceries every once a year.  
TT: Anyway, to bathe you in the moist heat of enlightenment,  
TG: eugh  
TT: Your brain is too fixated on the idea that there are only either men and women in the world, and that there is only one way each can present as such.  
TT: But in reality, that can happen in various forms.  
TT: What exactly makes a man a man, and a woman a woman? That discussion is endless and heavily layered.  
TT: Why do you consider yourself a man?  
TG: man  
TG: i dunno  
TG: i was gonna say because i have a dick but i have the feeling youre gonna slap me with the rainbow colored baston of sexuality or something  
TT: Which is a very suggestive metaphor, by the way.  
TG: oh fuck you  
TT: You’re welcome.  
TG: anyway  
TG: shit idk  
TG: i guess people just told me i was a dude and treated me as a dude and then i decided i felt like a dude?  
TG: ive never thought much about it but i dont think im anything else  
TT: That’s fine. I’m not going to turn you in to the gay police.  
TG: haha thanks  
TG: …thats a joke right  
TT: Sure.  
TT: So you’re certain you are male, but not straight?  
TG: wait what i didnt say that  
TT: Dave. Come on.  
TG: no really im just curious  
TT: Alright, then. I apologize for assuming.  
TG: its cool  
TT: But you know, for the sake of curiosity, then, I’m going to let you know that sexuality isn’t engraved in stone.  
TT: Just like it might depend on the perspective from which you are looking at things.  
TT: Society requires us to adopt names and labels to identify ourselves and uses that same device to discriminate against certain groups of people.  
TT: I don’t like being expected to act a certain way because of what I call myself. That’s too restrictive.  
TT: We as human selves transcend those fragile physical and societal borders by blurring the contours of the molds imposed upon us.  
TG: ok dirk bro not that i mind hearing your bitter peripatetic divagations on how society sucks  
TG: but can you get to the point  
TT: Damn. And here I was on such a roll.  
TG: tragic  
TT: Some other time, then.  
TT: The point is, society will always demand you behave in a specific way because of how its system works, but you don’t have to do shit if you don’t want to.  
TT: Think of the norm as a lifestyle suggestion.  
TG: im pretty sure that statement can have fucked up implications in all kinds of ways  
TG: but yeah okay i get it  
TT: Don’t you agree?  
TG: not sure yet  
TT: Tell me when you reach a conclusion. I would love to continue this discussion.  
TG: cool  
TG: perhaps in some other lifetime tho  
TT: Worth the try.  
TG: heh  
TG: alright ill let you get back to your horse porn now  
TG: see ya bro

\-- turntechGodhead has ceased messaging timaeusTestified --

TT: God fucking damn it, I’ve already told you they are *commissions*!

* * *

“So, how has London been?”

“I will answer that when you answer my previous question. Please.” Kanaya shifts some freshly-laundered pillows to sit more comfortably on the bed.

Karkat sighs, knowing he’s gonna have to bite the bullet eventually. “I don’t know, Kanaya, I really don’t. One day this total idiot is messaging me on Spectrum and sending me ridiculously explicit _raps_ , I couldn’t make this up if I tried and you know it,” his fierce gesturing is in danger of officially becoming _flailing,_ “then he’s roping me into a date, we end up being surprisingly forthcoming with each other, we get together to meet and…” his hands fall slowly to his sides. “Everything falls apart.”

Huffing tiredly, he tries to focus on doing the dishes from their meal, some hearty homemade lasagna with a side of much-needed friendship feels jam. “I don’t know why it affected me so much, or why it’s still affecting me.”

Kanaya muses on his words, observing him, then gently decides not to point out she doesn’t quite believe that last statement. All in its due moment. 

“It felt quite different this time, didn’t it.”

He stays silent for a while, sullenly soaping up flatware, to finally admit “yeah. Pretty fucking different, pardon my Alternian. In fact… Ugh. This is ridiculous.” He scrubs down on the dirty plates with the anger and hatred of someone who’s got a death grudge against that grime.

“No, please tell me.”

“…fine. It felt special and exciting while we were talking, but when we met… I’m not sure why. Something was telling me _it was right_ , and we…” he mutters embarrassed “…belonged together? You know how I get those weird instincts sometimes.” Kanaya nods her head in silence. “Whatever, it’s pathetic and so goddamn stupid.”

“I would definitely trust those instincts of yours, Karkat.”

“But I was _wrong!!_ ”

“Were you? Are you absolutely positive?”

He looks up at Kanaya like he’s seeing a ghost, which for a troll is way stranger than a dainty chainsaw-wielding blood-drinking alien woman.

“You’re kidding? I…” It rattles around in his mind for a second, but finds no way out. “It can’t work, he’s… not interested in someone like me. It seemed kind of perfect, but one minor detail and _poof_ ”, he laughs without much humor, “all for nothing. It’s so fucking frustrating.”

Kanaya assents with what she hopes comes off as empathy and understanding. 

“It is tragic, but there are minute things we simply cannot overcome sometimes.”

“Gender?!!”

“Karkat.”

Taking a deep breath and whistling it out slowly to avoid starting a rant full-throttle, he resorts to “...fine. I guess it matters on this idiotic planet, for some reason. Gods know we had more outrageous hang-ups back on Alternia. Still, I just… it’s not fucking fair.”

“No, it is not. I’m sorry, love. You deserved this.”

They share a somewhat sad and solemn look for a long moment. It might not be a barrel of laughs, this reunion, but Karkat can’t be anything but incredibly glad she’s here.

He’s the one to break their silence.

“So how’s the Land of Tea and Fish’n’Chips? Come on, I answered and now it’s your turn” he claims, eliciting a smirk from his moirail. “You’ve been so cagey.”

He directs a _severely pointed_ look at her.

“ _About your relationship_.”

His jadeblood friend emits a nervous laugh, showing her sharp fangs momentarily. “I am sorry for that. Even though it has been wonderful, it has also managed to be extremely complicated all at once. I know how you get excited on the spot over potential good things happening in my life, and I suppose I did not want to give you a sort of false hope to relish before I was completely sure of it myself.”

“That’s not what moirails do, Kanaya. I’m supposed to be there for you as much as you’re there for me.”

“I know, and I really am sorry. I knew you were going through a rough period."

“Still.”

“I can be overzealous on occasion, and I do hope you can forgive me when I exceed myself.” She gets up and approaches. “Will you?”

She breaks through the last of his moody resistances, _as usual_ , turning his smile wide and bright. “Of course I do.” Wrapped in a loving hug, he feels her nuzzle into his curls affectionately, triggering some alienoid clicks and purrs as he squirms. “I just want to know about your life. Feel part of it even though we're so far away from each other.”

As they break apart, he sees Kanaya frown thoughtfully. “Have you reconsidered my proposal lately, perhaps?”

Karkat says nothing.

“I would not want to pressure you, but I do want you to consider. Weigh your options, think of starting something new, do what is best for your life and your happiness. It might be good to entertain a change of air.” She beams and glows, literally on the latter. “And it goes without saying, but I truly miss you.”

“I miss you too. Sorry I’ve been bad at communicating with you lately.”

“So am I.” Her eyes close sweetly in reflection for just an instant. “We will do better, I believe in us.” So does he. He sincerely does. “Of course, it might be easier without the distance factor.”

Karkat freezes with a serious expression, pondering and deliberating.

“…maybe.”

* * *

Fragments of Dirk’s spiel get stuck in Dave’s head while he thinks about what to do with Karkat’s book. Maybe he could search for his social media and try to find out his cellphone number or something. He doubts the troll will answer him on _Spectrum_.

Then again, stalking him on the internet is not very amicable, either. Yeah, he’s not going to do that.

Dave is still thinking about his brother’s overcomplicated input about sexuality when he goes to work on a busy Saturday night at a club. He’s one of the first DJs in the line-up, so after he’s done, the owner of the house invites him to lounge on the bar for a while, drinks on him. The blond is done for the night, since his next gig has been cancelled due to something related to fire. The club caught on fire. No, wait, the owner’s car went up in flames. Or was it her cat? Nevermind, he doesn’t have any more jobs and he’s catching a ride back since he’s lent his truck to his little sister (with no shortness of hesitancy). Roxy better take care of Lupita.

The electronic beat sounds almost as natural to him as his own heartbeat, so Dave just sips on a fancy-looking colored drink through a confusedly-shaped straw and watches the movement while idly bobbing his head.

“That’s one good-looking drink,” he hears a voice strain next to him and turns to the source. “Almost as much as you.”

Dave blinks down at the girl directing what sounds exactly like an explicit fucking pick-up line at him. He smiles and ducks his head, not used to being propositioned first. “Damn, pulling out the heavy machinery right away, huh?”

“Can’t risk letting my target get away.” She smiles too, fixing a stray lock of hair. “Tina.”

“Is it short for Cristina or were your parents really into cats and the guy at the register misspelled ‘tuna’?” Jesus fucking Christ, Strider, you fucking suck at this.

Inexplicably, the girl laughs. It’s a nice sound, Dave notices, but it doesn’t really stick to his mind and he’ll probably forget it in minutes. “It’s just Tina. And you are just…?”

“Just Dave,” he replies. “Not a David, not a Davidson, just Dave. Strider,” Dave adds, then sips on his drink again.

She raises an eyebrow. “‘Strider’? Are you fast-paced?”

Oh wow. Ok, that was pretty direct. “I uh, walk really fast.” What???

The girl doesn’t seem fazed by his deflection and nods. “Alright, just Dave. I’m just about to go home, actually. I’m the sober one today. Do you by any chance need a ride somewhere?”

Holy shit. A hot girl is blatantly hitting on him and he isn’t even interested in trying to flirt back.

Though he’s past the point of pretending not to know what’s the issue here.

Dave swallows slowly. “Thanks, but I’m good. I’ve got my own hitch.”

“Fair enough,” she smiles, then reaches into her small purse, grabs a pen, pulls Dave’s arm and scribbles her phone number on the inside of his wrist. “If you wanna chat sometime, give me a call. I have many other battle strategies,” she smirks while capping the pen, then puts it away and waves him goodbye, disappearing into the crowd.

For the following minutes, the blond blanks out to the point of not even registering the music anymore. After a while, he starts scouring the crowd. He focuses on people of both sexes to test out a theory and comes out of it inconclusive.

Dave sips on his drink and hears the tell-tale slurp that he’s hit the bottom and it’s time to go home.

It’s a Wednesday evening when Dave pulls up his account on _Spectrum_ and agonizes for roughly forty five minutes before opening Karkat’s chat. It’s a fucking miracle the troll hasn’t blocked him yet. Dave is almost becoming a Believer.

\--turntechGodhead has sent carcinoGeneticist a DM!--

TG: hey  
TG: look i know you probably dont want to talk to me  
TG: much less see me  
TG: but uh  
TG: that day you left your book behind  
TG: and i didnt want to just leave it there so  
TG: i took it  
TG: and i want to give it back  
TG: especially because you said its one of your favorites  
TG: so it would be bomb if you replied  
TG: its ok you can do it in that shouty offensive kinda way you always do you can even amp it up to an actually hurtful potency  
TG: anyway ill be around lemme know what i should do with this

Dave reclines in his chair and sighs, letting his head hang back.

* * *

Karkat is at his desk, finally catching up on some goddamn work. Thank the gods he’s had kind of a lax schedule lately, the last thing he needs right now is ending up jobless due to severe and aggressive neglecting of his work duties, not to mention more penniless than usual.

…of course that might just give him the last kick in the ass he needs. He’s very unsure of his next move, still considering going back with Kanaya when she returns to Europe. He could at least visit and finally meet her girlfriend, test to see if he can control his curly mane in the perpetually rainy London weather, and, don’t know. Switch from coffee to tea and become a soccer fan. Whatever.

She’s out shopping at the moment, after her ruthless assertion of _functional adults need more than three pairs of pants to survive, Karkat_ , and out she went to gingerly mend another aspect of his dilapidated life. It’ll probably be a while before she comes back, Karkat wouldn’t put it past her to spend the whole day out ransacking shops to find him just the right pair of bootcut pleated khaki slacks, or another random combination of _Kanaya words_ that are a nonsensical string of noise in his ears.

She’s so amazing.

They discussed her possibly being more comfortable at a hotel. Instead, she insisted on staying in his crappy one-room apartment with him the entire time she was in town, quote: _as long as I am not an imposition in your life_ , like that could ever be a possibility. 

And so the place is spotless, they’ve joined forces to actually cook healthy homemade meals every day (she threw out all his grub cheetos for good measure) and spend the evenings talking and watching some of their favorite movies together. He doesn’t even mind sharing the bed with her.

In summary, he’s starting to feel like a troll being again. Strong enough to even buckle down and get some damn work done already.

…truth is, he didn’t want to even go near his computer this whole time. But enough is enough and wiggler time has to be over. He swiftly tossed his _Spectrum_ bookmark on startup, never to look at it again and move on with his life.

  
  
  


**_~SUDDENLY~_ **

_Ping_.

Was that…?

In utter disbelief he stares at his traitor phone, offended, like it couldn’t be his fault for forgetting to uninstall the _Spectrum_ app and the inanimate device is guilty of nothing short of murder charges. _Shit_. He should delete his profile altogether before he gets rid of the program for good. Whatever, it’s probably a bot.

…

_Or not_.

\-- turntechGodhead has sent carcinoGeneticist a DM! --

Automated words that fill him with more dread than he could ever wish on his worst enemy, who incidentally is probably either past or future Karkat.

Initially he pushes the phone aside, going back to work with an unhealthy amount of ferocity (he’s gonna need a new keyboard) but his eyes keep darting towards the still-blinking palm husk, making it impossible to concentrate. With a sigh and closing his eyes for a moment, he rationally decides that _he can’t be afraid of his fucking phone_ , and so he picks it up and looks at the messages that pop up.

…

‘You’re right, Dave. _I don’t really want to’_ is one of the saddest thoughts that he remembers ever having. He doesn't. Right?

Still, it might be ok to clear the air even slightly, and he does want his old tattered novel back. He takes a deep breath. A couple messages should do it.

CG: I *WOULD* LIKE MY BOOK BACK, DAVE. THANKS.  
CG: WOULD YOU BE WILLING TO GIVE IT TO MY FRIEND?

* * *

It takes an unbelievably long time for Karkat to answer, during which Dave reconsiders every choice of his leading to this moment, to the point he starts to convince himself he’s not getting a reply at all.

Then, there’s the ping of a notification on the screen. Dave lurches forward and hunches over the keyboard.

Damn, that’s cold. Karkat is even _thanking_ him, no insults or offenses. It makes Dave’s stomach drop.

TG: uh yeah sure  
TG: i was actually hoping to talk to you though  
TG: i know i fucked up but i meant it when i said you were cool  
TG: so if you were up to it  
TG: we could still be friends

Dave’s heart is pounding. He’s not used to admitting his true thoughts so frequently, so it feels like lying bare on the train tracks, but he owes this to Karkat.

…why, though? They just met. Yeah, sure, shit hit the fan on their first date, but it shouldn’t matter this much to him.

_Am I missing something here?_

* * *

Dave… wants to talk to him. _Be friends_ _?_

But Karkat doesn’t really want to be… just friends with him. It sounds nice, and he knows at heart that Dave is a good person, that’s why he’s latched onto the image of both of them together in his mind. But at the same time it sounds incredibly painful, no matter how much the troll wants, deep down, for the blond to remain in his life. He’s probably not being very rational but… if the human wants something to do with him it would be closer to a pale relationship.

And it’s not about Kanaya. Even though they’re moirails, after a long time on Earth they have learned to see things in a different light, and they don’t really do the rigid exclusivity associated with quadrants. That’s pretty much a thing of the past.

The real problem here is that _he’s pretty fucking red for Dave Strider_. Bright, smoldering, deep bloody red. 

…he really doesn’t know what to do. So he resolves to at least be honest.

CG: DAVE, I’D LIKE TO AT LEAST BE TRUTHFUL WITH YOU, SO HEAR ME OUT.  
CG: IT’S BEEN REALLY TOUGH FOR ME LATELY AND I’M JUST  
CG: NOT SURE I CAN BE FRIENDS WITH YOU.  
CG: RIGHT NOW.  
CG: IF YOU REALLY WANT TO TALK TO ME. I CAN THINK ABOUT IT.  
CG: I PROMISE TO.  
CG: BUT RIGHT NOW I’M NOT READY. AND I SHOULD TRY TO DO A LITTLE SELF-CARE FOR ONCE IN MY GODDAMN LIFE AND NOT LET MYSELF GET HURT AGAIN.  
CG: PLEASE UNDERSTAND.

It is unbelievable how much a few sentences of conversation, not even delivered in real time, can create that painful hollowness in his chest. That familiar tight lump is embedded in his throat once again.

CG: I’LL ASK MY MOIRAIL TO BE AT THE CAFÉ THIS AFTERNOON AFTER LUNCH. SHE’LL BE THE TALLEST JADEBLOOD WOMAN YOU’VE EVER SEEN.  
CG: IF YOU COULD SWING BY AND GIVE HER THE BOOK, I WOULD APPRECIATE IT IMMENSELY.  
CG: AND THANKS AGAIN.  
CG: SEE YOU.

Frantic as all hell, he doesn’t wait to get a response and directly logs off, lying back on his chair for what seems like an eternity, waiting for his bloodpusher’s frenzied thrum to subside.

* * *

Minutes pass by as Dave keeps staring at his screen, rereading Karkat's words, looking away, then reading them again. It hurts every single time. He wants to ask about it, wants to listen to what he has to say, know what he's feeling. Wants to make dumb jokes and rhymes to get him to laugh again.

Dave really wants to be his friend. It just sucks ass that they've met like this.

TG: yeah. yeah okay i can do that  
TG: ill be there  
TG: ...  
TG: sorry

\-- turntechGodhead has ceased messaging carcinoGeneticist --


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There'll be an **interesting convergence** at the release of the next episode, keep an eye on the notes! ;D Ooh, we are excited.
> 
> Enjoy! <3

The tallest jadeblood dame in the place sits at the bar, elegant as ever in her black silk dress and deep green stilettos, calmly sipping some frankly uninspired tea. Perhaps she’s been spoiled by British standards. You could never tell from just looking, but she’s tense, and she reaches into the shopping bag sitting next to her for some lipstick purchased hurriedly on the way over, after a minor disagreement with her moirail. _I love you Kanaya, and I have as much trust in you as a moirail can, but_ **_I am not letting you take a chainsaw-lipstick combo to meet my heartbreak date_** _. You’ll probably thank me later._

Reapplying her makeup after drinking, more out of nervous energy than anything else (not that she doesn’t ever look effortlessly immaculate), makes her at least simmer down a bit. She’s a civil person, and this will be a completely uneventful and impersonal encounter, _she can be sure of that._

…until her green eyes look up from her cup, and her enhanced Jadeblood eyesight detects something that makes her eyebrows shoot up into her hairline.

* * *

It's almost one o'clock when Dave arrives at the café, book under his arm and shades fixed on his face. His shoulders are scrunched up despite his continuous efforts to remind himself to relax. He goes in and thinks the baristas might have recognized him from the looks he gets. The blond wisely decides to ignore them in favor of looking around for the 'tallest jadeblood', word he's only able to understand after an... explorative search on Gooble. A few steps in, there is no sign of any tall jade--

Dave squints at a slim figure a little ways from him, sitting elegantly by the counter. Oh hell, she's seen him. With some amount of trepidation, he steps up to her.

"Kanaya? I thought you were shacked up with Rose back in Europe," the blond greets her, shoving his hands in his pockets and looking around once more to see if the 'friend' has arrived in the five seconds it took him to do that. "What brings you here, to the heretical land of khaki shorts and crocs?"

* * *

“Dave Strider, as I unlive and breathe.” Her expression is equivocally amiable and placid.

Kanaya allows herself a moment to recollect her thoughts. And possibly her emotions, since apparently the period elapsed between discerning Dave from afar and his customarily flippant greeting has proven inadequately short. This is indeed a development worth elucidating, despite there not being an immense amount of doubt in her mind about its implications.

“I don’t believe I am familiar with this term, _shacked up_. Is it perhaps equivalent to _chuffed_?” She rolls her eyes thoughtfully.

“Never mind, I think I will withdraw my question. There will be time to discuss vernacular divergences at a later date, I’m sure.”

The item underneath the human’s arm draws her attention.

“I understand, Dave, that I am here as the recipient of that particular pagetome. _The book,_ ” she adds at his confusion, “and I am to deduct, therefore, that you are the enigmatic envoy I have been anticipating.”

She smiles at him but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes, which are filled with a subtle steely harshness.

“As per your question, I have travelled all the way here from the Old Continent to visit with my moirail. Lately he has found himself… shall we say _disconsolate_.” Her well-chosen polite wording betrays a tone that could send an icy chill down the toughest, most steadfast interlocutor. “Of course, as his closest friend and confidant, I have taken it upon myself to see to the wounds his sensitive spirit has been dealt.”

A wide grin splits her face, leaving her sharp fangs in explicit full view.

“So tell me, dear brother-in-law. What have _you_ been up to recently?”

* * *

Dave has been furrowing his eyebrows in mild confusion at Kanaya's vocabulary when he watches her eyes drop to where the book is tucked and just freezes up completely. The next words she practically stabs him with don't come as a surprise, though his mind is still lagging behind to connect all of the dots like a constellation of shit. Of all the fucking people-- _trolls_ in the world, it _had_ to be the one he knew.

The blond listens in bone-chilling dread as she hammers the nail harder into his chest, swallowing hard when she calls him _dear brother-in-law_ , like a son being scolded by his mother. 

Then it's his turn to talk, apparently.

"You have got to be kidding me. I can't possibly believe this is a coincidence. It's the dumbest fucking joke in this universe," he whines, gesticulating wildly before leaning on the counter for support. Dave sighs and pulls out the book, setting it down between them. "But he was right, you are the tallest uh... jadeblood? On the planet. I don't think I've ever seen anyone top you," he says, then immediately regrets his word choice.

"Anyway," Dave amends quickly, "I've checked out the dating app your girlfriend slash wife recommended, is what I've been doing. She conveniently left out some critical info about that website, though," he raises his eyebrows, jaw tensed. Dave knows better than to anger a fucking vampire whose past has too many mentions of a chainsaw to be worth the risk.

* * *

_Rose_. That is surprisingly unsurprising. Doing some mental math, and factoring in her matesprit’s involvement in the matter, Kanaya’s facade softens. She observes the lanky human in front of her, currently shrinking into himself, and a pang of guilt reaches her digestion bladder. Just because she needed to unburden herself, it definitely was not her intention to torture him mercilessly. She attempts to recant.

Humor would be the obvious choice, it would be evident in anyone’s thinkpan after talking to a StriLonde for over thirty seconds.

“That depends on what you mean by _topping_. Because see, it’s amusing, we-” she stops herself in her tracks immediately at Dave’s horrified TMI-based look. _Sigh_.

Alright, that didn’t work, better stick to her basics. She makes a mental note to never attempt that kind of joke again.

Her pristine face concentrates into her best expression of momly kindness and wisdom.

“I apologize for lashing out. I do go overboard with my zealousness in protecting Karkat, but you have to understand. When he’s hurting, I’m hurting.” With a sad look yet a light sympathetic smile, she continues. “Of all possibilities, I am actually glad to see you, because that means there’s something to be done. That is, if you are willing to talk about it.”

As she removes her shopping bag with a flourish, she gestures her hand invitingly towards the stool next to her.

“Please? You can talk to me.” And as she directs an intelligent piercing look at him, she adds “I can tell it’s been rough on you as well.”

* * *

The look of disgust on Dave’s face must have mercifully stopped her from making a dirty joke about his sister, because the man relaxes after she moves on to another topic.

Out of all people he knows, and amongst the ones closer to him, Kanaya is not exactly the first one he’d go to for relationship issues. However, she does have the advantage of knowing Karkat. Besides, he’s pretty sure murdering her brother-in-law would make Rose sad, or at least bummed, so maybe he’s clear of the death threat area. He won’t bet on it, though.

The blond inspects the troll’s face. She does seem to have softened up a bit. Why does she want to help him? Or does she think she’s actually helping Karkat by talking to him? Dave sighs, staring at the stool as if the object is an abstract painting at an art gallery before sliding onto it.

“Is there even anything left to be done? He doesn’t want to talk to me.” He rests his arms on the counter and drops his head atop them. After a few moments, he rolls his head to glance at her. “How is he doing now, by the way?”

* * *

“He doesn’t, does he. Are you sure?” She immediately regrets that escaping her lips out of loyalty for Karkat, even though ultimately she has absolute confidence in her skepticism.

“Ahem. He’s afraid of getting hurt, Dave. He… cares about you.” She chooses her words carefully. “As I am sure you have already deciphered, as would anyone who spent more than one minute around him,” she wears a warm smile reminiscing about him, as she gestures with her manicured hands, “Karkat is a sensitive and wildly emotional person. Except, I suppose, when he’s reading. Or he’s being petted.”

“Um. Forget I said that, I’m begging you.” Kanaya laughs embarrassed, making her shoulders bounce. “The point is, he’s not a vindictive person, in fact quite the opposite. I think he was in a bit of emotional whiplash, feeling like he did, a… _special connection_ with you, only to have that rug pulled from under his strutpods solely based on… gender considerations. A topic that we, as trolls, are probably not innately equipped to deal with very well. Much like humans struggle to understand many of our cultural concepts, I have too battled with certain social aspects, in fact until I met my matesprit- girlf- _Rose_ , I believe I was never able to fully absorb the nuances of human sexual orientation.”

“Because as I understand it, between you two that was the… issue?”

* * *

Dave groans, removing his arms to full out squish his face against the counter. “I know. Shit, I know all that, I know he’s hurt and I feel like the biggest asshole about that, even if I didn’t really mean to do that.” He’s curious about the petting bit and hopeful about her skepticism, but decides to ignore that in favor of answering her first.

“Yeah…I mean, Karkat’s a fucking treasure, I’d say ‘national’ but I’m not sure how you guys feel about this place as your nation so uh, wait, what was I-- oh yeah, Karkat is awesome, I think he’s funny as hell and he gets riled up over the stupidest shit known to m--sentient beings,” fuck, it’s like walking on a minefield, now that he’s overly aware of the existence of trolls. “…but he also, I dunno, listens? Not in the way Dirk or Rose or even Roxy do, but he seems to, like, actually _understand_ what I’m saying? Maybe it has something to do with empathy, because fuck if he ain’t a shorty little well of feelings.”

When he concludes his Vantas gush, Dave realizes he’s smiling and quickly flattens his lips again, coughing to cover it up.

He leans back from the counter, resting his elbows on it again and gesturing as he explains his sexuality to another person for the second time that week. Dave can only hope that doesn’t become a recurrent activity. “Anyway, he’s dope, but I’m straight, Kanaya. Y’know, in our society, usually, men like women and vice-versa. As you may know uh, intimately, there are men who like men and women who like women and all other combinations in the middle, but as a general rule, that’s how it is. I’ve never liked a guy before, so I’m pretty sure I’m a gal-only kinda bachelor.”

* * *

Kanaya’s sigh is nine parts sympathy and one part frustration. 

“You might want to consider being careful of the light you frame him in, Dave. Someone might be confused and believe you... _treasure_ Karkat. Somebody ruthlessly perceptive might even read your disposition as… ‘smitten’.” She dedicates him a fangy smirk. “One might even preposterously dare to think you _cherish_ his compassionate nature.”

There’s a long silence and she lets it drag, flattening an inexistent wrinkle on her skirt while hoping for her words to sink in with the blond human.

“I would like you to pardon my language in advance, Dave. Because. Your 'general rule' speech is _bullshit_.” It comes out of her with a tremendous force. “I have known your familial unit for a spell, and I have it on good authority that three out of-” she stops herself with a dainty cough. “Alright. At least two of the StriLondes do not subscribe to that kind of societal mental trickery, and what exactly is wrong with that? I know you all love each other, do you not respect or accept them for who they are? Now if you truly decide that you are indeed not interested in Karkat, I can understand and support that. But otherwise, I am solemnly obliged to once again call _bullshit_ on you.” Her jaden stare is intensely determined. 

“Do _what makes you happy_ , Dave. Not what you’re _supposed to do_. Because no one is allowed to decide that for you. I will of course respect your judgment. But if you take too long you might find out someone wonderful slipped right through your fingers, so you better decide whether Karkat is _worth it_ or not, forthwith.”

Huffing slightly, she turns around to take a sip of her now cold cup of tea, hoping to calm herself.

“…then again, he just made you smile dreamily while not even being in the room.”

* * *

It's pretty funny to hear Kanaya cuss, but it doesn't stop Dave's face from going three shades darker at her surgical prodding. The blond looks away in reflex, looking down at where he's pulling the edge of his sleeve. The warmth spreading down his neck seems to have affected him on the inside, too.

"It's... more complicated than that," Dave drawls vaguely, biting the inside of his cheek. As he drums his fingers on the table, he thinks about his father. Their mom had died of overdose when Roxy was still young, leaving them to be raised by their... stern... dad. Rose and Dirk, being the oldest, had looked out for the younger ones until they were all old enough to sign a contract. Then, on the same night, they had packed overnight and scrammed to the neighboring city. They haven’t heard of him since, but he thinks it’s better not to dwell on that.

When he thinks about dating a boy, Dave still feels the shadow of his father's hand hanging over his head.

"But yeah, I get that. I mean, Karkat's a nice guy. I think, in theory, I would be able to date him," which is something he's never admitted to anyone, not even to himself, but for some motherfucking reason he's telling Kanaya, "but what if, when it came down to it, I didn't feel attracted to him? What if we were in bed doing the dirty, he pulls down his pants and I just said 'oh ok time out dude turns out I'm really not into--'," Dave stops mid-rant and furrows his eyebrows. "Wait, if gender and sex orientation aren't a thing for trolls, does that mean you..." His eyes trail down to Kanaya's crotch before he can stop himself.

* * *

Kanaya’s legs cross demurely, in a motion that is a gentle reprimand in her personal body language, but in a more universal, general sentient being sense, means _CUT THAT THE FUCK OUT AND STOP LOOKING UP MY SKIRT_. If he was looking up at her face, _which he isn’t_ , he would have seen her cheeks flush slightly with green.

She clears her throat louder than strictly necessary to regain his attention.

“I infer that your question, rather than being _personally aimed at me_ , refers to whether trolls have identical genitalia regardless of gender. The answer is simply _yes_. Gooble would probably be a better friend than me in this case.” She briefly considers using the momentum of his interest in her favor, deeming _she really shouldn’t_ , she wouldn’t manipulate him, but her meddling instincts and her love for Karkat cloud her sensible nature every so often. She proceeds with the utmost care.

“Do you think I’m attractive, Dave? _Please don’t answer that_. My point is, if the answer were to hypothetically be yes, if you really think... removing my underwear would cause a 180º.” This is a _horridly clumsy train of thought_ , and she really _can’t wait til Rose hears about the particulars of this conversation_. She’s gonna laugh for weeks on end.

“Now, please think further. _No not about me_. Imagine you are already attracted to a person, not just in a physical manner but emotionally, they are your friend, your comfort, a source of love and serenity. Will that one item of clothing be a factor? Strike down the relationship with the person you love and need in your life?”

Kanaya knows she’s skirting a dangerously blurry line, but in her heart, she heavily suspects this particular pair of idiots are in immense amounts of need for help.

* * *

As soon as Kanaya’s legs shift, Dave snaps out of it and turns his head away, embarrassed. He traces the corners of Karkat’s book as he listens to her.

Huh. That sure explains some stuff. So trolls don’t have that kind of issue amongst themselves, but what does that entail in an interspecies relationship? Maybe he should try talking to Rose again.

Dave tunes in to Kanaya again and opens his mouth to interject at some points before she makes him shut up. Is she a fucking mind reader or is he just predictable? He doesn’t know which answer unsettles him more.

“I…” the blond stops his hand mid-gesture, “…don’t know…?” Dave frowns. “I mean, though sex is great, it’s not the only reason I would want to be with someone. Sex is like the shit you sprinkle over your ice cream at the parlor, like, you’re not getting out of your pajamas and walking all the way to the goddamn shop to get fucking chocolate chips in a plastic cup, delicious as they may be. You can go to the grocery store to get a bag full of those motherfuckers, and I suppose you can also get your own ice cream and still eat it with chocolate chips at home but I’m not sure what that means in the present metaphor so,” Dave coughs, recalculating, “anyway, all I know is Karkat is a creamy apple pie-flavored homemade Italian fucking ice cream in this setting, but I don’t wanna add the topping and end up fucking it up. So it’s really...”

Dave sighs, worn out from his divagations. “Man, I just wish I could talk to him. It felt pretty chill to just shoot the shit with him and not think about… everything else, I guess.” He seems to ponder something for a bit, face growing hot again. “Since you’re willing to go as far as to talk to _me_ about it… does he really like me that much?”

* * *

“ _A creamy apple pie-flavored homemade Italian fucking ice cream,”_ she repeats, slowly, putting emphasis in every single syllable so her interlocutor can fully absorb every word that just spilled out of his own mouth.

Observing his fair face scrunch up in pain, a twinge of pity, in the most alien sense of the word, settles in her chest.

“I really cannot speak to his feelings directly, as much as he has _told me about you_. However, the intensity of his reaction might offer you an insight regarding that.” Bringing her index fingertip to her lips, she frowns. “Still, I can hardly really believe he would just up and leave without expressing his sentiments to you, if I know Karkat at all. And I do.” She gives him a pointed look, considering the distinct aftertaste of denial in his words. “Karkat is nothing if not transparent about his emotions. If you reflect on what he said to you, you can probably get more answers than you might get out of my second-hand impressions.”

She feels slightly guilty not telling him that she knows every single word that the troll uttered to him.

There’s something about this young kid, hiding behind those aviators, fidgeting nervously and hunching his shoulders while talking of her moirail… it makes Kanaya want to help him unreasonably hard.

_He looks absolutely miserable._

“Here.” She sighs. Her hands quickly produce a fountain pen and flowery notepad from her bag, gifts from her matesprit, facetiously referred to by Rose as the _Victorian Lesbian writing set_ , then she jots down a few numbers on a piece of paper that she rips off and hands to him. It seems almost like she’s doing it so fast to avoid changing her mind halfway through. “You are now in possession of Karkat’s digits. He will forgive me if I’m right.”

Discreetly adjusting her dress she gets up, bag around her wrist, and putting an end to the heartfelt reunion. “I should go. Karkat’s incredibly shorthanded fashion repertoire needs an expert helping hand like the desert needs rain.”

With a click-clack of her preposterously high heels, she walks by his side before pausing for a moment and resting a hand gingerly on the human’s shoulder.

“You should do us all a favor and call. I believe you both could use a do-over date, lest you keep comparing each other to delicious treats in self-torturing isolation. Be well, Dave.” 

As she walks behind him, she expresses one last-minute thought over her shoulder “…and, Dave, you should definitely talk to your sister."

The jade vampire woman sashays out the door and into the bright afternoon sun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No worries, Karkat will be back to yell and be generally adorable on the next chapter! ;)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You might have noticed that this is now part of a series! Make sure to read the **end notes** for juicy details and possibly more content. ;)

As Dave watches Kanaya’s skirt twirl in the wind, he’s left with a lot of questions in his head. The blond looks down at the counter, a piece of paper resting atop Karkat’s book. That Kanaya came to take back. And didn’t.

Dave furrows his eyebrows. He’s been under the impression that Kanaya hates him ever since she’s started dating Rose, so why is she playing matchmaker now? Well, she did say she’s overprotective of Karkat, and that means…

Fuck. How does he fix this? He half regrets ever listening to Rose and going on Spectrum, but then…

No, he’ll never regret meeting Karkat. Dave just has to man up and deal with this.

He grabs Karkat’s book and number and strides out the door, going back home almost on autopilot. First, to find out how he feels about whatever’s happening in the trolls’ abyssal regions.

However, when Dave gets home and boots up his computer, after tossing his keys and dropping the book with the slip of paper on his desk, his chat app’s blinking with new messages.

It’s Rose.

TG: ok maybe youre actually busy instead of ignoring me but im keeping every possibility in mind  
TG: ttyl i guess  
TG: dont sell your soul to the devil rose believe me its not worth it

\-- turntechGodhead has ceased messaging tentacleTherapist –

\-- tentacleTherapist has begun messaging turntechGodhead --

TT: Hello, brother dearest.  
TT: I understand my absence was untimely, but I was on a binge due to an upcoming deadline.  
TT: At last, however, I am free of the shackles of time.  
TT: So may I inquire as to what can yours truly humbly offer to her esteemed sibling at this moment in time?  
TG: how the fuck do you manage to make so many words fit into a sentence  
TG: isnt there an ideal limit of words to use to convey a simple fucking idea  
TG: seriously you could easily chop off half of that line and nobody would understand any less what you mean  
TT: But then what kind of writer would I be, Dave? One that leaves gaps to be permeated by the reader’s imagination? Don’t make me laugh.  
TG: damn alright literary mistress of dark arts  
TG: keep writing your overly explicit gay wizard porn fanfic who am i to question your success  
TT: So you’re saying you are not a professional critic of “overly explicit gay wizard porn fanfic”? I stand disappointed, Dave.  
TG: well i can always make an exception  
TG: theres nothing i enjoy more in this whole trap lofi infested world than reading your tome long stories about magic apprentices thirsting after their masters and saying ambiguous shit in every single fucking line  
TG: its an absolutely delectable hobby rose ten outta ten therapists recommend it  
TT: You say that, but I don’t recall hearing any complaints back when I sent you the early drafts even before I had my editor look at it.  
TT: And don’t try to play it off as ironic, brother. I vividly reminisce about conversations in which you referenced specific passages of my books, some excruciatingly detailed pieces of lore.  
TG: yeah ok goddammit  
TG: i hate your fucking terabyte memory how do you even remember shit like that  
TT: I have a folder on my computer set aside for your compromising slips.  
TG: fuck  
TG: blasted witches i swear to god  
TT: Please. What can God do about us?  
TG: convince a bunch of people to burn you at the stake idk i wouldnt put it past people these days  
TT: That’s adorable.  
TT: In any case, I digress.  
TT: What is it that you wished to speak to me about?  
TG: nah nothing important  
TG: i already talked to dirk about it  
TT: To Dirk? Something you initially wished to discuss with me?  
TT: That’s intriguing.  
TG: why  
TG: did he say something?  
TT: No, Dirk hasn’t spoken to me in a while.  
TT: What I meant was that there aren’t many items in the Venn intersection of the subjects Dirk and I can both be consulted on and, amongst those, the topics that might interest you.  
TG: dont worry about it  
TT: I can think of a few possibilities.  
TG: its fine i already figured it out  
TT: Should I take a wild guess at the matter your wished to discuss?  
TG: very considerate of you but no thanks  
TT: Maybe it could pertain to questions about sexuality?  
TG: oh GOD FUCKING DAMMIT he fucking told you didnt he  
TG: cant trust SHIT in this family of motherfucking blabbermouth pricks  
TT: How so very phallocentric, David.  
TG: bite me  
TT: I’ll courteously pass the kind offer.  
TT: To answer you appropriately, yes. Although, even if they hadn’t provided intel about your…situation, your desperation gave you away.  
TG: they what do you mean they  
TT: Oh, I apologize. I am merely trying out gender-neutral language for my next opus.  
TG: well its fitting because therell be two of him after i tear him apart  
TG: im gonna print his furry fanart and paste all over his fucking building  
TT: I’m inclined to advise you against that.  
TT: Our big brother has proven to be able to fit a lot of spite into his metaphorical heart.  
TT: Remember Jake?  
TG: god dont remind me of that saga  
TG: it was entertaining to watch for a while i mean the aranea ark was just peak soap opera  
TG: but after a while shit was just fucking painful to look at  
TT: Right. We don’t want that occurring in the context of blood-bound relationships, do we, now?  
TG: fine motion seconded you got a point  
TT: Oh Dave, I have so many points, you would not believe it.  
TG: why do you always make everything sound so ominous  
TG: can you say something without a drop of lovecraftian narrative bullshit  
TT: Sure. So you are questioning your sexuality?  
TG: ok nvm go back to spooky crap ill pretend to be terrified  
TT: Instead of being actually terrified?  
TG: how do we get a sister off our registry again  
TG: asking for a fucking exasperated friend  
TT: We don’t.  
TT: Why are you scared of your sexuality, Dave?  
TG: motherfuck i am NOT scared of my air tight sexuality rose  
TT: That’s not what the wind has been telling me as of late.  
TG: yeah okay ive been revisiting some shit i was taught and thinking about things that never crossed my mind before this moment  
TG: but it doesnt mean im scared im just  
TG: i dunno  
TG: bugged about it  
TT: May I inquire as to what prompted this surge of introspective melancholy?  
TG: that depends  
TG: can i ask you something and get a direct and honest answer or will i have to skip over lines and lines of life coach levels of prolix bullshit to get to a vague vision of sincerity  
TT: You drive a hard bargain, brother. But very well, have at it.  
TG: i can already see im gonna regret this but fine here we go  
TG: how  
TG: did you know you were a lesbian  
TT: Fair question. Let me ruminate it for a while.  
TG: like cattle food  
TT: Like a fine wine.  
TT: Alright, well, the summarized version of my “gay awakening”, as you have referred to it many points in time, is that I came to the realization that I couldn’t naturally find men attractive. So, upon closer self-analysis, I found myself being attracted to females instead.  
TT: Or rather, female-coded people, for what it’s worth.  
TG: yeah okay im not about to open the can of worms contained in that last sentence just yet  
TG: but like  
TG: what did you feel towards girls that you didnt feel with guys?  
TT: You’re asking about my definition of “attraction”.  
TG: augh jesus  
TG: i guess  
TT: Alright. This one is a bit more layered, but I am nothing if not an intellectual.  
TG: ok judith  
TT: I’m thrilled to know you’ve been listening to my conversations with Kanaya regarding gender. Perhaps we can explore that in the future.  
TT: For your current query, though, I’ll provide your solicited objective answer.  
TT: First of all, there is romantic attraction and sexual attraction. The romantic variety involves more abstract feelings and objectives, such as creating an intimate bond with an individual to the point of allowing them to reach into the deepest parts of your soul. You could say it’s especially about trust, even.  
TG: sounds dramatic  
TT: I aim to please.  
TT: The second variety is sexual attraction, which implicates some level of desire to physical activities. I suppose I could tell you about my experience, but I reckon that is not part of what you are requiring here.  
TG: you reckoned right you can keep your sapphic adventures to yourself  
TT: Are you sure? I think you might find some very inspiring.  
TG: absolutely fucking positive  
TT: As you wish.  
TT: Is there anything more you would like me to broach on this matter?  
TG: no thatd be all thanks  
TG: im schooled enough on my sisters preference for candy for a fucking lifetime  
TG: wait no  
TG: there is something  
TT: Yes?  
TG: how was it for you when you met kanaya?  
TG: i mean yeah ok you knew you liked peaches and not pickles but like  
TG: trolls are a whole other deal arent they  
TT: Am I witnessing Dave Strider’s own “gay awakening”? I think I have never seen you get so anthropological with your questions before.  
TG: yeah i knew i was pushing my luck  
TT: I’m joking. I find it endearing that you would come to me for answers.  
TG: who the fuck else would i go to though  
TT: Dirk, apparently.  
TG: youre still hung up about that huh  
TT: A little. But I don’t hold grudges.  
TG: i once saw you purposely misspell a girls name in an autograph because she called you fat in elementary school  
TT: That was an unfortunate accident and you can’t prove otherwise.  
TG: whatever makes you sleep at night lalonde  
TT: That’s usually Kanaya.  
TG: AUGH  
TT: You were begging for it, Dave.  
TG: fine whatever  
TG: fuck  
TG: why do you have to be like this  
TT: As if you weren’t a carbon copy of me in that exact same aspect.  
TT: I have had the honor of bearing witness to your exquisite social prowess multiple times.  
TG: wow look at that rose  
TG: over the hills on top of that frosty bit that looks like a sad pear  
TG: can you see it  
TG: thats the topic we drifted away from  
TG: and now its running from us as if it was gay rights and we were a bunch of alt right christian moms worried about their poorly nourished children  
TG: lets jog all the way over rose cmon we can do it we can do anything if we set our minds to it  
TT: Your metaphors are as schizophrenic as always, dear brother.  
TG: thanks  
TT: Retreating into the scope of the topic, though,  
TT: It didn’t pose much of an impediment, Dave.  
TT: I was attracted to her and I wanted to use whichever apparatus could grant us both pleasure.  
TG: god  
TT: If it helps, think of someone else as I narrate this.  
TT: In any case, we discussed it before. You know, what mature adults do, regardless of species?  
TG: haha how funny take a stab at the guy whos only two years younger than you  
TT: If you’ll forgive the aphorism, the only wrong opportunities are the missed opportunities.  
TG: lame  
TG: anything else  
TT: Unless you have more sub-questions you would like me to tackle, I rest my case.  
TG: cool  
TG: see you later then  
TT: Nice try, Strider.  
TG: what are you talking about  
TT: It’s your turn now.  
TG: what no i never committed to saying shit about shit  
TT: Oh, is that so?  
TT: Very well, then. In that case, I guess I have no choice but to speculate.  
TT: Maybe I’ll share my musings with Dirk, even.  
TG: i cant believe were related  
TT: Nurture surpasses nature, brother, no matter what opinion currently runs in post-modern circles.  
TG: nature is a bitch for lumping our family together through dna so i wholeassedly fucking agree  
TT: Your wielding of English grammar proves yet again to be an appaling object of observation.  
TT: Anyway, Dave,  
TT: What is the core of the marathon of interrogation you just subjected me to?  
TG: damn fuck my life  
TG: its your fault to begin with  
TT: My fault? How so?  
TG: you know damn well how so  
TG: cmon rose seriously  
TG: why the fuck did you rec me a troll dating site?????  
TG: i didnt even fucking ask for it or anything you just shoved it in my hands like a gift from a greasy relative you dont even remember inviting for your party  
TG: maybe its aunt josies half brother maybe its great auntie gretas long lost nephew maybe its just a fucking pedo blending in  
TG: the point is because i took your goddamn lousy stupid advice now ive hurt someone unintentionally  
TG: because i didnt know shit  
TT: Oh. Are you serious?  
TG: as serious as a lawsuit at a funeral  
TG: which is coincidentally how i feel in regards to this whole clusterfuck ive caused  
TT: I see.  
TT: I apologize, Dave. I’m being truthful when I claim to never had meant for that specific scenario to transpire.  
TT: To be completely honest, I trusted your perception to pick up on the clues about the target audience of that website and be annoyed at most. I had not accounted for your disposition to ignore blatant divergences from a regular dating app.  
TG: damn sorry to disappoint my literary genius twin  
TT: It was really not intended as a jab.  
TT: However…  
TT: I still don’t see how that is related to the things you’ve asked me.  
TG: fuck  
TG: ok so  
TG: this person i started chatting up didnt have a pic or much info at all on their profile  
TG: but we started talking and went on a date  
TG: turns out they  
TG: were a troll  
TT: Dave.  
TG: jesus fucking christ can a guy even keep secrets in this family  
TG: he was a GUY rose  
TG: a tiny ass troll guy  
TG: he had horns and grey skin and no boobs  
TT: Oh my.  
TT: Yes, that checks.  
TG: so i was naturally taken aback and when i told him why he flipped and yelled at me then stormed off  
TG: and thats really all there is to say on the matter  
TT: I hardly think so.  
TT: But if you are now aware of the public of Spectrum and you are bothered by that, I assume you will not be returning, correct?  
TG: correct  
TT: Then what is the issue here?  
TG: man i dunno  
TG: karkats a nice guy i dont want him to be bummed about some dumb shit that happened to him  
TG: its me im dumb shit rose  
TT: Come, now. It was a honest mistake, for once.  
TG: what the fuck do you mean by that  
TT: If you are concerned for his well-being, why don’t you explain the situation to him?  
TG: yeah no dice he doesnt want to talk to me  
TG: i mean i managed to get his phone number today  
TG: …  
TG: wait a minute  
TG: you didnt passive aggressively call me out on being shocked by karkat being a troll just now  
TG: kanaya told you all about this didnt she  
TT: See? I knew you had it in you.  
TG: sly motherfucker i should have seen that coming  
TT: She means well, Dave.  
TG: so ive heard  
TG: shes apparently karkats mom figure or something  
TT: I wouldn’t know about that.  
TT: But I also meant for you.  
TG: sure  
TG: as if you guys didnt derive some kind of dark pleasure from gossiping about me all the time  
TG: hey whats daves latest lmao dude youre not gonna believe this  
TG: oh sorry hang on  
TG: Rose, guess what?  
TG: What is it, dear older brother?  
TG: Have you heard about our dumb little brother’s latest *accomplishment*? evil snicker evil snicker  
TG: Oh no I have not, in fact, heard about our idiot brother’s feat, Mr. Dirk, would you be so kind as to enlighten me on that matter? witch cackle witch cackle  
TG: The extraordinary event was that he managed to get his dick caught in his zipper. What a numbhead, right?  
TG: Indeed! Hohohoho!  
TT: I have never in my lifetime laughed like that, but I get the picture, Dave.  
TG: do you now i have many more accurate depictions i can act out  
TT: Perhaps some other time.  
TT: I am currently more preoccupied in seeing you through your personal crisis.  
TG: then youre outta luck because there are a total of minus one crisis in the general vicinity of dave strider  
TG: we are as of today a whooping swag hundred days running free of crisis  
TG: the best record yet  
TT: Dave, listen to what I have been trying to tell you for ages now. Dirk, too, in an even more abstract and convoluted way, as far as I am aware.  
TT: The way father raised you… you don’t have to be like that anymore.  
TG: this has nothing to do with him  
TT: It does, and you know it.  
TT: The “real” world is so much more diverse and complex than what he expected us to see. Take me as an example. If I had taken his “lessons” and deeply internalized them, I would not have ever met Kanaya, much less romanced her.  
TT: I would have discarded the prospect of a profound and longstanding relationship with an indescribably amazing person to conform to a sexist, homophobic, transphobic, abusing piece of shit old man’s perverse idea of a moral legacy.  
TT: You owe it to yourself to be your own person, Dave.  
TG: i know  
TG: just  
TG: fuck  
TG: the more i talk to you guys the more my head spins  
TT: Take it easy, we wouldn’t want to injure your rap masterpiece-machine brain.  
TG: my rhymes are sick shut up  
TG: but yeah i know what you mean  
TG: youve made a banging job out of yourself btw  
TT: Thank you. You’re not that worse for the wear yourself.  
TG: heh yeah i guess being called to mix at events is pretty fucking dope  
TT: So, how are you going to proceed on the Karkat issue?  
TT: From the general debriefing Kanaya passed on to me, I take it you do actually have an interest in him?  
TG: i  
TG: yeah  
TG: i think so  
TG: i mean  
TG: i dont really want anyone else so  
TT: How adorably sweet.  
TG: augh piss off  
TG: hey im almost afraid to ask but why arent you giving me more shit about this  
TT: Hmm. That is a good question.  
TT: In part, because I understand this is an intricate topic, especially sensitive for you.  
TG: objection  
TT: Denied.  
TT: However, there’s also my share of guilt on this matter. Alas, my prankster’s gambit loses yet more ticks.  
TG: i thought youd left that behind along with your tasteless relationship with john  
TT: Oh dear. Those were quite some times, indeed. I’m relieved he wasn’t terribly insulted when I came out as a lesbian after dating him.  
TT: As a matter of fact, though, reliable sources tell me he had reasons of his own not to react like that.  
TG: oh god do i even want to know  
TT: I wouldn’t know about that. But if you do wish to be elucidated on the matter, ask your brother.  
TG: ok yeah i really dont  
TT: There is one more motive for my collaboration.  
TG: shoot me  
TG: and by that i mean literally  
TG: end my fucking suffering  
TT: Don’t be melodramatic.  
TT: The final reason is that I actually care about you and wish for your happiness.  
TG: wow seriously  
TG: hold the fuck up stop the train halt the machines pull on the brakes  
TG: rose lalonde CARES about ME  
TG: no no we gotta rewind this yeah lets go back to the previous station we aint ready to follow our route yet  
TT: Oh shut up.  
TT: Not all of the siblings have the same level of emotional constipation as you and Dirk.  
TT: Roxy has more socialization skills than the two of you put together.  
TG: i think dirk is still worse off i can at least order a coffee without inciting a violent mob  
TG: i heard one time there were people with pitchforks i dunno how the guy does it  
TT: Yes, he is a family jewel. I regard him with fond exasperation, I’d say.  
TG: ok but why is kanaya helping doesnt she hate me  
TG: i thought shed do everything to get him as far away from me as possible  
TT: Well, for one, Kanaya also wants her moirail to be content.  
TG: oh god the fucking quadrants id completely forgotten  
TT: I can give you an overview later, if you’d like. I have a PowerPoint presentation.  
TG: uhh ill just gooble it  
TT: Pity. Which is a troll term too, for the record.  
TG: great thanks  
TT: Moreover, Kanaya doesn’t hate you, Dave. You see, we are all strange in our specific ways. You and Kanaya are very peculiar in different ways, which makes for some tension every once in a while, but she has a tendency for sympathy.  
TT: She knows you mean well… broadly speaking.  
TG: macaroon face  
TT: Bottle-bottom asshole. Which now has another meaning for you, I suppose.  
TG: augh  
TG: too soon rose  
TT: Fair. I take it back. I’ll return it once you are mature enough to joke about your sexuality.  
TG: dont hold your breath  
TG: ok enchantress of beverly place i gotta go call a boy i guess  
TT: A nerve-wracking endeavor. Let me know should you survive.  
TG: bowl-haired dipshit  
TT: Gas station flailing noodle.  
TG: heh nice  
TG: alright see ya  
TT: See you, brother dearest.  
TG: and uh rose  
TG: thank you  
TT: No problem, Dave. Good luck.

“Alright.” Dave takes a deep breath, slumping back on his chair for a few minutes.

There are so many things rushing through his head that he can barely pick out one single thought to inspect. Everything points to his attraction towards Karkat and his desire to see him again, to talk to him, say dumb things to make him laugh. His siblings are right, he can’t have himself be defined by a fucking toxic past influence of his life.

Dave feels like a doe walking on shaky legs when he reaches for the book to input Karkat’s number on his cellphone. Before he presses the call button, the blond takes off his glasses and sets them on the desk.

“Let’s do this shit,” he mumbles to himself for encouragement and presses dial. After a few rings, the other line comes to life and a barely familiar voice grumbles onto the speaker.

“‘Sup, Karkat.”

* * *

“You WHAT?”

“I gave him your palm husk number.”

“KANAYA!” At her somewhat mortified expression, Karkat backpedals a bit. “Not cool?”

“That boy has a massive infatuation with you. Your self-hatred tendencies are obscuring the forest while you aggressively stare at that tree once again, I’m afraid.”

Dumbstruck, he stares at her with eyes wide as dinner plates, like her mouth just spouted the foulest collection of lies in history. Even though he knows she wouldn’t, his mind is blatantly refusing to accept that fact.

“No!”

“Yes.”

“…no.”

“Y- are we gonna enter an obnoxious endless loop here? Because it’s starting to seem that way and I know how stubborn you can be.”

“No I am not.”

“…I can see that.”

“Ok that wasn’t believable at all.”

“Not really.”

“Sorry.”

“…”

Kanaya gives him a second for the right concepts to sink in.

“I. So. I don’t-” he pinches the bridge of his cartilaginous nub. “What the hell did he say to you?!”

“Enough.” She winks playfully and gets up from where they’re sitting on the bed.

“Seriously?! That’s ALL you’re gonna tell me.”

Over by the kitchen table, which is buried under a frankly obscene mountain of shopping bags, Kanaya starts fiddling with the clothes she came back with. “I am officially interrupting my prying into this matter.”

“What?! YOU GOTTA BE FUCKING KIDDING ME.” She shoots him a narrow-eyed warning look. Karkat’s ubiquitous orneriness always makes an exclusive exception for Kanaya… except when he’s really stressed out. He gets the message and simmers down. Briefly. “You love meddling, always bugging and meddling and fussing and butting in, especially WHEN IT CONCERNS ME AND MY LIFE, A FACT FOR WHICH I AM INCREDIBLY FORTUNATE AND I SINCERELY THANK YOU FOR ALWAYS BEING A WONDERFUL FRIEND TO ME, PLEASE NEVER STOP BEING MY MOIRAIL!” His face is tomato red as he frantically shouts compliments at her, a reaction which Kanaya welcomes with a joyous bout of laughter.

“You can always count on me,” she’s still giggling a little behind her hand “but you won’t really be needing me anymore.”

He makes a little grumpy pout. “I always need you. I don’t wanna not need you, ever.” They smile warmly in unison.

“That’s not what I meant, and you’re perfectly aware of that.”

“What am I gonna do witho-”

“Talk to him” she interrupts. A fluffy red sweater makes an appearance out of one the bags.

“But he doesn’t- I mean, I didn’t want to-”

Kanaya turns her eyes slowly back to him with a look terrifying enough to be banned in 49 states.

“Did you flat out refuse his request to talk to you.” It’s not a question.

“Kanaya!” Her look makes him step back a bit instinctively, because she might be one of the kindest people he’s ever met, but there’s also some mental images of her bisecting people in his thinkpan that he’s not 100% sure are nightmares. “He- he rejected me first.” His voice turns soft with the slightest tinge of sad. “What are you getting on my case for.”

Closing her eyes in resignation, she sighs with understanding.

“Here is what’s about to transpire. He will call you, you will answer, and you will both meet again and end this ridiculous impasse once and for all.”

“You can’t know that! You only gave him my number.” He eyes her suspiciously. “Did you threaten him? I even hid your chainsaw. What am I saying, you don’t fucking need it. Either that or you’re getting psychic on me.”

“If I were to acquire said abilities, I would presumably blame it on being around Rose.”

“What?”

“Never you mind. I’m not psychic, but even that won’t stop me from seeing this coming.” As she leaves the folded pullover on the table, she softly snorts.

“…”

Karkat examines the delicate sweater to distract himself. It looks soft, but he feels apprehensive about wearing it, it’s so bright red. Suddenly, a dread invades him: there’s a solid possibility that over half of this grisly pile of bags contain red items. Groaning preemptively, he agrees that some things are indeed easy to see coming.

_Stupid level-headed, sensitive, emotionally sane best friend._

While Kanaya is out to give him some Space, Karkat sits at the finally clear table. He’s staring down at his palm husk with suspicion in his eyes, eyeing it warily from afar, like the device is a piece of hot coal and it’s waiting for him to lower his guard to jump into his face.

…he has a good idea of how he wants to play this. Kanaya says _don’t overthink, don’t overplan,_ and to her credit his meticulous tight-assed plans tend to fall apart like a grubloaf in the rain. Still. There are certain things…

All American Rejects’ _Gives You Hell_ startles him back to the kitchen. Better change that ringtone right after this, mental note.

In his haste, fumbling clumsily with the phone to pick up, he only manages a grumble as a response. A good start.

Then he hears that silken voice.

“Sup, Karkat.”

It’s amazing how head-spinningly fast that makes his stomach flutter and his scowl melt into a smile.

“Hey, Dave.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Katfishing now has a companion piece, [Sine-Cosine qua non Intersections](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27026377/chapters/65979286)! You might have noticed a sly mention to a certain older brother, and a certain best friend. They now have their own story, and together they are now part of a growing series and AU! 
> 
> [Sine-Cosine](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27026377/chapters/65979286) centers around **DirkJohn** and has a very different flavor to Katfishing, but we really do love it, so we're very excited to share it with you. We hope you enjoy it! <3


	7. Chapter 7

Dave is expecting a lot of things as a reply, ranging from being cut off right away to an explosion of anger. He is not prepared for and therefore is completely thrown off his game when Karkat answers in a soft tone.

“Uh,” is his eloquent first answer. The blond grabs the edge of his desk for stability. Mental? Emotional? Physical? Who the fuck knows, he’s digging his nails into the wood as if his life depends on it.

“So.” God fucking damn it, Strider. “Hoooow are you doing?” _Seriously??? ARE YOU BEING FUCKING SERIOUS RIGHT NOW???????_

“No, uh, nevermind, that’s stupid. I mean not your current status of wellbeing or not, I just mean it’s a stupid thing to ask in this particular moment in time given the circumstances of our uhhh last interaction plus some things I’ve accidentally disclosed with your moirall-- moarail-- your bff, which incidentally is my sister-in-law, haha would you look at that huh either the world is really a fucking eggshell or maybe if you believe in that kinda shit in which case that is absolutely and unrestrictedly fine you can say it’s fate or destiny or karma or the cosmos spitting back on your face whatever crap you threw it first or something--”

The more he rambles, the more Dave seems to unintentionally fuel his geyser of babbling, until his eyes fall on the book and he rewinds his thoughts.

“Fuck, okay, forget everything I’ve been saying, listen,” the boy swallows. “Our last date crashed pretty bad, right,” his heart is hammering against his ribcage, “so I was wondering if you’d like to, I dunno, do a reboot? But not like those lame remasters of movies that were only good _because_ they had shitty quality and poor sound quality and the HD version just looks outright unsettling, I’m talking about those sweet fucking productions that cast actors from the original movie as secondary characters to give that sense of nostalgia while being sober enough to realize that would totally _not_ work otherwise and then there’s like a remix that makes you think of your first kiss at the drive-in cinema except in this case we’re not in the 80s anymore or was it the 60s? I suck at dates-- in more than one way, apparently, Karkat,” Dave breathes, “can you give me another chance to hopefully get to know you better and scientifically evaluate the aforementioned juicy Vantass I so rudely omitted from our last encounter? I promise to shut up for like thirty fucking seconds every five minutes so you can hear your own thoughts and formulate a response starting now, go.”

* * *

Karkat’s brain is still trying to process Dave’s critical information about his (pronounced in a dreadfully butchered way) moirail, so it’s hard for it to focus on his fevered rambling about cluckbeast ova and scuttlebuggy movie theaters.

“Wait, shut your endless babbling trap for a second, you are the who to the whatnow?” he asks as soon as he has an in on the conversation, somehow making some sense of that string of words in his brain. His confused troll mind slowly does the atypical familial math, until it puts two and two together.

“My Kanaya, is your sister’s… matesprit, I mean partner?? Wow. I- that sure is a fact to be absorbed, what the _fuck_.”

SERIOUSLY, KANAYA?! He doesn’t believe for a second she hid that information maliciously on purpose, but it seems like something WORTH MENTIONING AT LEAST IN PASSING, _SIGNLESS FUCKING SUFFERER_.

“O-kay. As goddamn weird as that is, especially that we’re just learning about this now… I don’t give a shit. This is about you and me and no-fucking-one else.”

There’s a bit of a silence while his thinkpan tries to gather up the rest of the human’s conversational downpour. Particularly it makes emphasis on the words _fate. Kiss. Date._

_Chance._

With his incoherent nervous rambling, the edginess in his voice, the vulnerability he’s so obviously committed to giving up… it instantly reminds Karkat, even though it now seems like a lifetime ago, of when the troll first realized he was talking to a very sweet dork. It makes him smile, and not just on the outside.

“You’re such an idiot.” The words are there, but there’s not the faintest trace of venom behind them. It’s almost endearment.

“Alright, Strider. Ground rules. First of all, stop using my last name to surreptitiously spell ASS, don’t think I don’t hear the way you say that.” As he hears a light chuckle in his ear, he has to cover his own mouth to not reply in kind.

“Second. Please give me my motherfucking book back. No more conspiring with my _M O I R A I L,_ ” he makes sure to emphasize the pronunciation, “to keep my favorite novel hostage. Liberate the _Cat’s Cradle_ and we can negotiate in peace.”

His claws trail small circles on the kitchen table as he exhales a small breathless laugh.

“…but yes. You _may_ take me out on a date again. But you better make me fucking swoon.” His voice is charged with laughter. Taking a deep breath, he stretches back in his chair.

“You know, last time I chose the place. I think it’s your turn to organize the date.” 

The playful smile he’s sporting is half sweet, and half wicked.

* * *

Dave is not sure when it happened, but he’s now pacing around his room as he listens to Karkat, stepping to a random tempo in his head. Matesprit, moirail…fuck, he’ll have to do some serious Goobling later. Oh, right, he was going to look up some audiovisual material earlier. The night is young, though.

Then Karkat accepts his crooked invitation and he breaks out a grin.

“No promises on that first one, Karkitten, but I’ll keep it in mind. And the book thing was totally accidental, Kanaya just swished out like a modern Greek goddess and left it behind so it could persist to mock me in my own home. I’ll bring it with me when we go on our love ride, just make sure to strap it close to your body tight and uh, I forgot where I was going with that, hang on a sec.”

The man takes a deep breath. “Right, yeah, okay. You can bet your--” Dave bites his tongue, “…ass, that I will, Vantas. Prepare to have your mind or sponge or whatever motherfucking _blown_ out of uhhhh pan, jesus why are these words English, but used differently? Fuck I need a glossary,” he rambles, then stops pacing around. “When are you free?”

* * *

Karkat briefly considers the likelihood of Kanaya leaving his book behind by accident. _Possible_ , but if he knows her at all, and he does, she’s too smart and intuitive not to consider meddling shenanigans as an alternative.

When he hears Dave mellifluously call him _Karkitten_ , his bloodpusher threatens to lurch out of his mouth and jump out the balcony. _Fuck_. This idiot has such raw power over him somehow, and it’s a delicious kind of terrifying. Karkat gets on his feet to walk up to the window while listening to the human’s warm voice on the phone, tugging the curtains aside slightly with one claw, and wondering if he’s actually imagining the birds he vaguely hears chirping outside.

“I can give you a thorough rundown of Alternian mother tongue, whenever you like.” He allows himself a cheesy grin, his fangs tugging on his bottom lip just a bit. “And Dave... I am free as soon as humanly possible.”

* * *

Karkat’s warm voice makes a giddy feeling buzz through Dave’s body. “Hell fucking yes, Karkat, please bring your whole family tongue, mother, father, sibling, uncle, grandma, just introduce me to the whole fucking gang,” he rambles, then jogs over to the computer to check his calendar.

He works Thursday nights occasionally, but this week he’s conveniently free. _Party_.

“How’s tomorrow sound? And uh,” Dave taps his fingers on the desk, “should we go for a daytime date again ooooooor have we graduated into the grown-up brand of date, movie and dinner kind of thing? Just askin’, I can roll with either.” He stands again, rocking back and forth on his heels. Why is he so fucking _nervous_? Ok, nevermind, that’s a dumb question.

* * *

“What the fuck is an uncle? Nevermind, I suspect I won’t care. Tomorrow it is!” _Tomorrow_ sounds like a bearable enough of a wait to Karkat. Barely. 

_Did he just genuinely and unabashedly think that?? What the hell, earlier today he didn’t even want to talk to him._

_…yes,_ **_he most definitely fucking did_** _. Past Karkat is just a spineless avoidant fuck, seriously, screw that guy. And maybe stop talking to the voices in your head, and answer the actual person speaking to you on the phone that you have the craziest crush on, bulgemunch._

“I guess I’m up for an after-dark date.” Leaving the phone trapped between his ear and his shoulder, he fiddles nervously with his hands. The fuzzy vibrations in his chest are getting to be almost too much. Almost. “But like I said, you choose the activity. Maybe you can surprise me? That sounds kind of fun.” Karkat considers the possibilities that flash through his thinkpan, with a hazy dreamy look.

…he could get used to all of them.

* * *

Dave’s mind starts rushing as soon as he gets the green light on the date. He does a little swing with his body, stepping back and forth rhythmically. He looks like a total idiot, he’s sure he does. “Sweet. I’ll pick you up at seven? If you’ll message me or, I dunno, just tell me your address, that is. I swear I won’t creep outside your window and watch you sleep while eating caramel popcorn,” he jokes, looking outside his own window and at the bustling street below.

* * *

“…pick me up? Why Mr. Strider, what a gentleman.” A chuckle escapes his mouth without his permission. “Ok, tomorrow at seven, then. I’ll text you the address.” Oh gods, he might have a bloodpusher attack. WHY IS HE ALREADY SO NERVOUS, STOP SWEATING.

“Sorry to inform you that I always draw my curtains at night, Dave, so the only way you could watch me sleep is being in the room with me.” Smirking sneakily, he hopes that the human gets at least a billionth as flustered as Karkat is right now. “I’ll see you tomorrow... and Dave.”

“…I can’t wait.”

* * *

Suddenly, Dave stops registering any movement around him because his face is burning up. Holy fuck. Did Karkat just-- Is he supposed to-- Does _Karkat_ expect him to--

Oh shit, the room’s spinning. Wait, he can’t pass out yet, Karkat’s still on the line. “Uh, yeah, fuck, yes, me either. See you tomorrow.” With that, he finally hangs up.

After ending the call, Dave takes a moment to collect himself and the scattered parts of his heart around the room. Damn, he must be far deeper into this crush than he’d previously thought. It’s like Karkat is an addictive magnet and Dave’s completely hooked, one foot into the rehab clinic and the other scrambling back to him. He has debt collectors and the police coming for him, but he has to smush his face against Karkat once mo-- yeah okay that’s a crappy fucking metaphor.

But what to do to blow his mind and make up for the awful first date they had? Dave looks around his room for inspiration. A club? Nah, too loud, too crowded. The movies? A good choice, but he’d already kinda mentioned something like that in one of his word-vomit splurges, so it wouldn’t exactly come as a surprise, especially because it’s such a cliché.

Although…Karkat _does_ like clichés, doesn’t he?

As Dave mulls over his options, his computer lights up with a notification for one of his social media accounts. He ignores it, but something in his desktop background catches his eye and he’s hit with a goddamn epiphany.

In half a second, he has his cellphone in hand and his contacts book open on the favorite tab. He presses the call button and holds it to his ear with one hand while the other clicks away at his computer. This isn’t going to last long; he can’t multitask for shit, after all.

It doesn’t take long for a familiar cheery voice to pick up. “Yo, Jade, ‘sup? Yeah, me neither. Hey, listen, can you do me a solid just this once…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Katfishing now has a companion piece, [Sine-Cosine qua non Intersections](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27026377/chapters/65979286)! You might have noticed a sly mention to a certain older brother, and a certain best friend. They now have their own story, and together they are now part of a growing series and AU! 
> 
> [Sine-Cosine](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27026377/chapters/65979286) centers around **DirkJohn** and has a very different flavor to Katfishing, but we really do love it, so we're very excited to share it with you. We hope you enjoy it! <3


	8. Chapter 8

The next day, Dave wakes up unbelievably early. Only it _is_ pretty believable, considering he’d been awake for at least an hour when his alarm had gone off. He’s slept like the very inhabitants of hell had danced on his forehead in a caffeine-alcohol mix-fueled interspecies rave all night long. Well, at least he’s awake and not late, so fucking score.

As soon as he’s had his tasty cold leftover pizza from two days ago and some reheated coffee for breakfast, Dave sets his plan in motion. He’s never been one for planning, unlike his older siblings, but thankfully Jade has given him some pointers after prodding the latest beef from him. To his credit, though, she only helped by further brainstorming Dave’s original ideas until all loose ends were tied. He felt like crying from having such a good friend, but Jade had assured him they’d be even as soon as Dave got her a freebie into the club he mixed at on Saturdays, which he thinks it’s far too cheap a price for that, but won’t argue against an easy bargain.

He makes some calls, then checks some info on the internet (he hesitates over the anonymous tab’s search bar, but in the end gives up, leaving his gay virginity in the hands of fate) before heading out for a while.

The blond stops by Jade’s place around noon to get the key item for this quest. He’d half hoped to say hello to John, since they haven’t shot the shit in a while, but when he asks about him, Jade’s face warps with irritation and she grumbles something about his obnoxious brother. Dirk? Wait, didn’t Rose say something similarly cryptic about them? Fuck, he should really talk to one of them soon, once he passes this test with flying colors. Y’know, like a rainbow? Because he’s apparently gay? Or bi. Alright, he’s not going to delve into this again right now, there will be time later.

Jade manages to rope Dave into eating something half healthy for once by whining that John had abandoned her for his ‘fuckboy’. Does she mean motherfucking _Dirk???_ Okay, Dave _definitely_ has to ask him.

After parting with the promise of a VIP ticket and another reunion soon, Dave goes back to his apartment. Sometime during the afternoon, Karkat messages his address and asks about the ‘APPROPRIATE ATTIRE FOR THE OCCASION’, which reminds him of a very important point, fuck, he’d almost forgotten. He replies with ‘oh yeah casual is fine but make sure to bring a coat or something real cozy and warm but if you by any chance get cold you can always bask in the sheer smoking hotness of yours truly’ as if he’s not freaking absolutely the fuck out.

When time draws near six o’clock, Dave starts his freshening up routine. He shaves, takes a shower, dries his hair, puts on some perfume he’s half sure to be two years past the expiring date, gets dressed and grabs his shades. Everything he’ll need is on his bed, but he still spends roughly ten minutes going through his mental and physical checklist, just in case he’s let something slide by.

A quarter to seven, the blond locks his door and goes down to the garage. He throws his jacket, thicker than the one he wore the previous time, under the cover of the cargo area and hops onto the driver’s seat.

He drives with nervous concentration, tapping the radio’s beat on the steering wheel and nodding along. Karkat’s book lies beside him in the passenger seat, wrapped neatly in an ironic cat print paper and a red bow. He hopes it doesn’t trigger something unpleasant in the troll.

After squinting at some signs and getting an invested horn smash from an impatient driver, he finds what he hopes is Karkat’s address and honks once, leaning over the wheel to try to see further through the entrance. Dave’s heart is frantic and he feels it on his bruised lip.

* * *

“MOTHERGRUBBING SON OF A JUGGALO TIE-” Karkat has a heated argument with an accessory. And he’s losing.

Wait, _what the fuck is he even doing?!_ This button-up doesn’t even have a collar! The tie comes off with a yank and gets thrown across the room. Blowing air slowly out of his mouth, he rests his forehead against the floor-length mirror on his dresser door. _Calm down. Don’t fucking do this again, this is important._

Okay, he pulls back up, he’s fine. It’s gonna be _fine_. His reflection looks back at him for a quick rundown: collarless shirt, vest, dark jeans, lace-up boots, characteristically messy curls, whatever, who cares. He’s so fucking nervous, the anxiety butterflies in his stomach are so intense, he’s afraid he might cough up a few accidentally if he opens his mouth.

Right, coat or jacket, as per Dave’s mysterious memo. Where are they going? A giddy thrill runs through him in anticipation. Deep down, it doesn’t matter. He’s just happy to spend time with Dave again. Still exciting, though.

His new flufftastic red sweater sits conspicuously over the back of a kitchen chair, in plain sight. On the way to the door. Karkat sighs. _Stupid meddling thoughtful perfect moirail_. Fine, bright red fucking sweater it is. At least he’ll be warm, whatever the hell they’re doing that they need to be warm for that’s suspending a big question mark over his head.

A honk makes him jump. Already here?! Of course he’s not coming up, what did you expect him at the door, with flowers and a heart-shaped candy box?! That’s fucking stupid. _Who is he talking to?!_

After feeling for his various knick-knacks in his pockets and grabbing the sweater on his way out, he runs out the door without a second thought, slamming it behind him. Climbing down the stairs seems eternal, and by the time he’s running out the front gate, he’s breathless. 

Although that might be due to the gorgeous blond waiting for him with a charming smile.

* * *

Dave waits in the car while distractedly fiddling with his fingers, but perks up when he hears movement at the door. For a second or two, he allows his mind to process how fucking stunning he looks and all that surrounds the fact that's he's thinking that in the first place. The next moment, though, he's cracking a coy smile at his date.

"'Sup, Karkandy," he drawls at Karkat from behind the open window and opens the passenger door from the inside. He has half a mind to be a little self-conscious of the state of affairs of his secondhand battered pickup, but that's probably the least unattractive part of going out with him. Besides, at the very least it's clean? Yeah, that's gotta award him some points from effort.

The troll slips inside and closes the door with a little more force than necessary and a lot more than Dave thought he was capable of, which shoots a confusing bolt of arousal down the blond's spine that he files to unravel later (as in, never). Karkat notices the wrapping and looks up at him, but Dave only looks amused and mildly smug when he says, mockingly, "It's just a little thing."

Inside, on the title page of Karkat's own copy of _Cat's Cradle_ , Dave had written in pencil (he didn't want Karkat to be _too_ angry) 'To the creamiest piece of red velvet cake in all universes, Karkat Vantas. -D. Strider'.

He hopes the troll will forgive the felony of marring his book.

* * *

Karkat’s body is practically buzzing with electricity as the blond opens the car door, welcoming him in, and the troll slides next to him slamming the car door a little too hard behind him. It isn’t until he’s right there for a few seconds, too caught up in awe of being so close to Dave again, that he manages a soft “hi, Dave” accompanied by a shy smile. His face is already heating up from the last sweet moniker dedicated to him in the human’s alluring twang. 

Spotting the present that the blond offers him, wrapped in adorable meowbeast paper and a big red bow, his bloodpusher both jumps and drops at the same time. “I didn’t get you anything, Dave!” he complains sheepishly. Still, he tears into the wrapping impatiently, and his face lights up into a smile once he sees the contents.

“ _Cat’s Cradle_. How did you know? This is just what I wanted. Thanks~” he asserts with a breathless laugh. At the human’s expectant look, however, he opens the book on the title page.

_To the creamiest piece of red velvet cake in all universes, Karkat Vantas. -D. Strider_

Karkat has to suppress the irrational instinct to melt onto the floor of the car and die, on the spot. With bright eyes and a full bloom on his face, he looks up at Dave like he might suddenly pop out of existence making him realize he was dreaming all along.

“Dave. Karkandy, red velvet cake? Are you starving, or are you trying to tell me you want to eat me? You know, it’s basic dating etiquette to announce your plans for real life vore to the person you’re going out with. Out of basic courtesy” he laughs, trying not to bite his bottom lip _too hard_.

It’s an adorable gesture, and suddenly it feels like having his favorite book traveling around unattended for a while was well worth this moment. Plus… the red ribbon, the red velvet cake… are sending Karkat’s thinksponge a message he’s not quite ready to fully absorb.

“You’re so sweet. Thank you.” After a hesitant instant he decides _fuck this coy bullshit_ , as he leans in to place a tiny chaste kiss on Dave’s cheek. Then he turns his gaze back down, even more flushed than before, to concentrate furiously on staring at the sweater on his lap.

“So… where are we going?”

* * *

Karkat’s smiling face is his favorite thing ever and a billion times better than his angered face, Dave decides. He’s so dumbstruck watching him that he barely registers what the troll is saying. Focus, Dave, it’s bad etiquette to leave your date speaking to air.

The blond blinks back into focus and huffs out a breathy laugh. “I don’t know, man, I think _Spectrum_ isn’t that kind of website…right?” He mock drops his face into a concerned expression.

However, his train of thought just derails and fucking topples over fifty seven times when Karkat lurches forward and _kisses_ him. On the face, where his lips also are, only a few centimeters to the side.

And Dave doesn’t hate it.

In fact, he is the polar opposite of that. He is so terribly positively interested in that, yes please, come back, Karkat. His whole face burns and Dave is honestly astounded at his own body because he’s not supposed to be reacting like a fifteen old virgin teen, and yet.

After a few seconds, Dave’s brain boots up again and he backtracks to Karkat’s question. “Uh, oh, right,” he stutters, straightening himself to start the car again. He looks forward, checking the side mirror before pulling off the curb. “D’you really want me to spoil the surprise? I promise it’s not a ring fight nor a satanic ritual, if you’re still worried about the vore stuff.”

* * *

As the blond concentrates on driving, Karkat takes the opportunity to observe him a bit off the corner of his eye. He doesn’t want to stare like a creep and make him nervous, no matter the stupid levels of attractive he emanates. Dave _does_ look a little flustered, though. _Good_.

 _He’s not mean_. Karkat would never want him to feel like he’s being pushy, overbearing or too brazen.

…he does want Dave to _want_ him though. Just a little. Enough for reciprocity.

Besides, Dave’s pretty fucking kissable. Sue him.

“I do make a point of keeping ring fights and vore out of my regular schedule, thank you. And Satan is not really a thing.” Smirking, he watches out the car window, trying to guess where they might be going unsuccessfully. He does want to be surprised, but…

“Goddammit, I’m so curious. Why did I think this was a good idea, now you have the absolute upper hand about tonight.” Chuckling in unison is the best thing ever, Karkat suddenly decides. “How about a hint? A good one, not a stupid easy one. Don’t go soft on me, Dave.

* * *

As they stop under a red light, Dave drums his fingers on the wheel, tilting his head and looking at Karkat from the side.

“A hint, huh? Damn, Karkles, you don’t trust me?” He whines in a mock-hurt voice, but seems to consider it. “Alright. Lemme see.”

Dave thinks of the three spots he has planned to take Karkat tonight. “Okay, got it. Careful not to fall too hard, but if you do, I’ll be there to fire you up again,” he poses, smirking smugly and driving off again when the light turns green.

* * *

_He's such a goddamn smug teasing bastard and he wants to kiss that sexy mouth shut so bad._

"Last time you talked about firing things up you threatened to set my bed on fire, so I'm not sure how to interpret that one. As for the _falling_ " he muses, "I'll eliminate the possibility of skydiving, since _falling too hard_ in that situation means turning from person into splatter of goo, hard to come back from that." Thinking hard with a look of concentration, he distractedly chews on his claw.

"I give up. But now I wish I'd made my fucking ridiculous levels of uncoordination patent before, if there's _falling_ I'm usually the first to topple down face-first. You might have to do a little more _firing up_ than you thought, whatever the hell that means" he jokes.

* * *

As Karkat tries to guess, Dave hums in encouragement, basking it the sweet cadence of his voice. Then, just as his gut had called it, Karkat admits to being clumsy. That’s fine, all according to keikaku.

He can’t help the cheeky grin that rises to his face, but he doesn’t meet Karkat’s eyes. “Gotcha, leave it to me.”

It takes a few minutes for them to get to the location of the first step of their date, time spent exchanging quips and listening to the idle radio station currently on. Dave parks the car on a side street behind a gymnasium. There aren’t many cars around, thankfully, so it means his prediction might be right. He pulls on the hand brake and opens his door, announcing “We’re here” before hopping out and retrieving his jacket from the cargo area.

* * *

Karkat jumps right out of the truck after Dave, looking around curiously without managing to extract any conclusions. They’re in a dark street. It’s a nice night, with almost full moon and some clouds. He still has no fucking clue.

As he tries to walk around to where the blond is, he’s pulled back and notices his sweater got a bit caught in the door after his magnificent slam. Grumbling, he pulls it free. Stupid bright ass red sweater, he hasn’t even worn it yet and it’s already pissing him off.

Although… it does make him think of something that’s been bugging him.

“Dave, wait.” he jogs around the truck hoping to catch him before he moves away. Not sure why he would walk away _without Karkat_ , but that’s a thing his thinksponge is doing apparently. “I wanted to ask you something.”

Dave is leaning back up from digging under the scuttlebuggy’s hood, or whatever. He doesn’t know cars.

 _The view is not terrible_ and that doesn’t help him relax. It seems that he’s taken to wringing his hands out of anxiousness, waiting for the human to turn around and face him. So that’s something also.

“I was wondering. If you don’t mind. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable-” he scratches the back of his head nervously, “but it would make me feel a bit more at ease. So do you think…”

“Can I see your eyes?”

* * *

When Dave hears Karkat’s hesitant voice, he looks over his shoulder, stretching one final time to reach the coat before straightening himself and turning to face his crush.

Oh. Right. That is indeed a thing people do during dates, gaze into each other’s eyes.

How come he hadn’t realized that before? Maybe it’s because he’s most used to being around his brother and sisters and friends who have also known him for like a lifetime? Yeah, that pretty much checks.

“Uh, yeah, shit, sorry, of course,” Dave splutters, lifting his hand to take off his aviators. He slides them off, but keeps holding them as he drops his hand back to the side of his body.

The blond takes a second to open his eyes and look up at Karkat, a nervous half-smile on his face. He starts explaining himself immediately, even if he’s not sure Karkat can tell in the dark. “I don’t know if you’re aware of this, but uh. It’s not very common for humans to have this color either, actually, it’s almost unheard of, and me and my siblings were fucking blessed with freaky genetics that make us all have bizarre eye colors, something to do with melanin, apparently. The most ‘normal’ color out of us four is my brother’s, because he can still pass off as hazel, though he still took after the habit of wearing sunglasses since his eyes are sensitive too but c’mon let’s face it these shades are mad loaded with swag so who wouldn’t, right? Also lenses suck ass with dry eyes so those are only for emergencies and driver license tests-- uhh sorry, anyway,” he licks his lips nervously, “I really don’t mind spending a hundred point five percent of our time alone together baring my eyes and soul for you to lo and behold but when there’s so many people I’d rather not draw more attention than I already do with my unbelievable sexiness plus yours added to the ensemble on top of it so.”

Dave has looked away during his ramble, eyes shifty from being stared at. Okay, perhaps there is another reason he wears them. But he focuses on Karkat again and realizes his dark red irises look fucking stunning under the moonlight.

He feels like kissing him. Cancelling the date and spending the rest of the night just kissing the living daylights out of him, but no, he’s planned this, come the fuck on.

Although he’s decided that, Dave does take a step closer, hesitating before finally placing a hand on the troll’s shoulder. “Sorry about that. Delightful as it may be to make you get fussy and yell some hilarious shit at me, I don’t really wanna make you uncomfortable.”

* * *

“I just… wanted to see you…”

 _Spellbound_ doesn’t even begin to cover it. Dave Strider, in the moonlight, enhanced by Karkat’s innately nocturnal sight, is a vision to behold.

The blue and silver light caresses his soft features, his pale and perfectly freckled skin, his platinum hair that flickers ever so slightly in the night breeze, seemingly shimmering against the dark night sky. And his eyes.

_Those eyes._

It’s like looking into glowing rubies, deep and intense, fucking mesmerizing. His pale eyelids flutter and frame them beautifully, he looks like a mirage, like a mystical creature, like a god put straight on this Earth among the mortals. 

It’s the most gorgeous and enchanting thing Karkat’s ever seen.

The troll’s hands unwittingly wring around the sweater he’s still holding. The soft wool almost… the uncannily exact color…

_Come on, don’t compare your boyfriend’s shining jewel eyes to a fucking sweater, that’s fucking ridiculous._

…fine, he decides. He might be ok with the sweater. He’ll wear the damn sweater. THIS IS THE MOST PERFECT SWEATER IN THE WORLD, OK.

It’s entirely unclear to him how long he’s been staring, awestruck, but Dave is finishing a trademark long-ass ramble, something about baring his eyes and soul for Karkat. _Wait what-_

And then the blond’s coming closer, resting a hand on his shoulder, warm and gentle. It’s the first time he’s felt his touch, with intent, and Karkat feels like he might faint for a second, struggling to swallow.

_They’re not close enough._

The short troll takes a step forward, resting his chin on Dave’s chest, and. Just. Looking up at him with a soft expression, right into his eyes, taking him in. Absorbing as much of him as he can in this quiet moment frozen in time.

The perfect moment to say the perfect thing.

“THOSE ARE THE MOST BEAUTIFUL GANDERBULBS I HAVE EVER SEEN.”

* * *

The longer Karkat stares at him with his big cat-like eyes (seriously, how are his eyes so big), the more anxious Dave becomes, shifting his weight between his legs, darting his eyes away and back quickly, biting his lip.

Then the troll seems to snap out of it and comes closer, _still_ gawking at him.

Karkat’s loud remark makes him jolt, but when he registers what the guy’s said, he laughs nervously, looking away. “Damn, Karkat, my ears are right here, man, they aren’t going anywhere,” he jokes, turning back down to the troll before him. His face is a few degrees hotter than it was before. “But uh, thanks. Your eyes are pretty cool, too. Sorry I made you feel like a freak last time, I could have been less of a douche and…” 

Dave trails off, unclear of how to finish the sentence.

“I could’ve been less of a douche, that’s it. Anyway, this is my repentance date, right? We should get going if you wanna milk that regret dry from me.” The blond winks, despite himself, and slides on his glasses again.

He steps away from Karkat to lock the car and, before walking off towards the entrance, he hovers awkwardly in front of him for a few seconds before boldly reaching out and grabbing Karkat’s hand. Then, he leads him into the gymnasium-shaped building.

When they open the door, a waft of cold air hits their face.

It’s an ice rink.

Dave knew about this place from when his dad was still trying to get him into sports. One of the local hockey teams uses it to train, but when there’s no practice, they open the rink to the general public. Since it’s a little ways off from the center and today’s a Thursday night, there aren’t many skaters around.

Dave leaves Karkat to take in the new surroundings and talks to the instructor to rent two pairs of skating blades for them. He comes back to the troll after paying with an expectant smile. “So, you ready to glide, Karkat?”

* * *

Karkat doesn’t wanna move. He wants to stay here in a dark parking lot all night staring at Dave.

Ok, that’s fucking stupid. But it was comfy, and warm, and nice. He would pout, but as soon as the blond takes his hand, he about forgets everything bad that’s ever happened in the history of ever. And without letting go, Dave walks him right into a sportshive.

 _Fuck it’s cold_. If he knew he might have brought his whole frostseason attire. There’s people… skating? and some couples together, in general it seems pleasant.

…Dave’s apology left a bitter aftertaste in his mouth, though. He should say something, he ponders while glancing at the svelte blonde at the rental counter, turning his scowl into a little smile. But maybe later, when he’s not worried about losing his footing and cracking his pan on the ice, like he’s suspecting and low-key dreading he’s about to be.

Aaand back comes Dave with some frostbladeshoes for both of them. Karkat eyes them suspiciously.

First, he slips into his sweater before he freezes his grubscars off, and it’s the stupidest most comfiest soft piece of clothing ever. It so irritating. Then, he sits down to start putting on the blades Dave hands him.

“You know if I crack my skull open on the ice you’ll be the one to notify Kanaya, right? Good luck with that.” he snorts.

* * *

The blond puts away their regular shoes inside a locker and flips the bolt, pocketing the key before shoving his feet inside the skating boots. They’re heavier than he remembers, so maybe he’ll be a little rusty, but he’s pretty confident in his ability to save Karkat if necessary.

Dave smiles at Karkat’s drama and straightens himself, shrugging on his jacket. “Sure, right after I flee the country and erase all evidence of me ever existing, I’ll tell her.”

After making sure he can stand correctly, Dave steps over to the gap on the barrier around the rink and stretches his hand out to Karkat. “C’mon, easy does it.”

* * *

"She'll smell your blood, she can do that. I think," he grumbles, because this shit is fucking scary and dangerous and WHY WOULD YOU EVER TRY TO WALK ON A BLADE. Slide, whatever the fuck.

Dave's hand is grounding him, so maybe it's not so bad. He takes tiny little steps, feeling like the stupid skates weigh more than him, and tentatively steps onto the ice. Immediately he feels incredibly unstable and instinctively fists his hand into the blond's shirt with a yelp.

"IF I SURVIVE THIS I'M GONNA KILL YOU WITH MY OWN TWO HANDS, DAVE."

* * *

Dave is grinning like an idiot while he holds Karkat’s hand in one of his and the railing on the other. “Fine, fine, I’ll let you kill me later. For now, here,” he stabilizes himself on the ice, feet parting slightly, “the secret is to not open your legs too much and focus on going forward. It helps if you bend your knees a little, like you’re doing a little squat on the potty,” the blond explains, keeping some distance between him and Karkat so they can move their legs.

He can’t help but take the opportunity to take in Karkat’s appearance. Dave can’t believe he’s saying this about a dude, but there’s no two ways about it: Karkat is hella _cute_. He drools all over him while the troll in question scrambles to grasp the basics of ice skating.

That’s fine, he’s in no hurry.

* * *

Karkat slides slow and shaky like a newborn calf, but at least he's managing to keep upright for now. One hand in Dave's, sweet, incredibly fucking patient Dave, and the other one on the railing, so tight he might just pry it off the rinkside. 

“If I skate half a lap without stomping my face on the ice will you consider it a success and let me go buy you a hot cocoa?” he chortles, only half joking. “How can you possibly be so fucking agile anyway? Your center of gravity is like two feet above mine.” Talking, gesturing and clumsy troll first-timer skating prove to be a bad combination, as he staggers with a gasp and has to brace himself around Dave’s slender waist to avoid a nosedive.

…it’s not the end of the world.

“FUCK. I figured it out, this is not an apology date, this is a revenge date, you hate me and want me to suffer. Why else would you make me try to slide around on these razors.” There’s not an ounce of sincerity in his grumpiness though, and he’s having fun. Also, leaning against Dave’s warm body.

* * *

Dave keeps steering Karkat forward, slowly putting more distance between them. He laughs sincerely at the troll’s whining, barely looking at his own feet as he skates backwards in front of Karkat, holding onto both him and the metal bar. “C’mon, Karkat, is there anything _cooler_ than fucking _knife shoes_? That’s punk as hell, man, I’m not shittin’ you. Starting is a bitch, but you’ll be a pro in no time, check it,” Dave says and, much to Karkat’s absolute mortification, lets go of him and glides backwards along the curve of the rink.

Fortunately, the place is scarcely populated, so Dave is able to give himself vigorous impulses and just slide smoothly across the ice. And that he does. He doesn’t even try to hide that he’s showing off, holding his hands behind his back as he alternates which leg he swings backwards.

The bastard swishes by Karkat, circling beside him, swiping in just before him, striking an aloof pose and just gliding past him in it, until at some point he even does a fucking spin on the air and manages to land decently. It’s not a fucking triple axel, but it still earns him a warning chide from the instructor, so he doesn’t attempt it again.

After his whole spiel, he goes back to skating alongside Karkat, a little breathless. “See? Fucking badass.”

* * *

Karkat watches stunned as Dave skates fast backwards, showing off and even doing a loop-de-loop at some point, earning him a warning from a clearly jealous jerk rink assistant. 

His smug as fuck face as he glides back to his side is both incredibly punchable and kissable. Oh boy, Karkat’s in trouble.

“I hate you so much right now, you prick.” He still laughs amusedly. “And yes Dave, razor shoes that can slice through your neck are fucking _metal_. As weapons. So try not to piss anyone off with your cockyness.”

Stopping momentarily, he tends his arm to the blond expectantly.

“Now come here, I need you. For balance.” He makes a little pout. “I’m gonna try letting go of the railing."

* * *

Dave’s heart flops dramatically and dies for like a second when Karkat says ‘I need you’ and it’s no use trying to argue that the context is a whole other thing. He complies, though, keeping his arm as firm as he can manage for the troll to cling to.

Karkat is so fucking _tiny_ , Dave can barely wrap his head around it. He kind of wants to haul him up in his arms and carry him around like a cat just to see if he can get away with it.

“Hell yeah, go Karkles, I believe in you. Chase that Winter Olympics dream, man,” the blond chants, keeping up a pace just fast enough to be steady. His date’s fingers are clawed on his arm and the touch makes his breath hitch. So far, he hasn’t recoiled from any sort of contact he’s had with Karkat, which is both terrifying and relieving.

He feels stupid for making such a big fucking federal issue out of it, especially because Rose will be teasing him about this for their next three reincarnations.

* * *

The way Karkat’s skating can probably be described as _dizzy duck trying to ice skate while clinging to an arm_ , but he’s pretty proud of keeping his verticality for so long. It’s the little things. Like not falling on your ass. Or being on an adorable date with the most infuriatingly sweet jackass.

“Did you just call me _Karkles??_ Ok that one’s weird, what in the ever-loving Mother Grub Dav-”

Maybe because he got distracted by the dumbest endearing nickname yet, maybe because Karkat is clumsier and also stronger than Dave thought in the first place, maybe because it’s a ridiculous romantic trope and it’s an unavoidable law of nature that a couple on an ice rink must appease for the universe to be at balance. Whatever the reason, Karkat loses his balance, screeches loudly, and pulls Dave down with him on his cosmically fulfilling trip to the ground. 

Now you’d think they’d fall soft and perfectly level with each other, gaze into each other’s eyes with passion while there’s violin music and hearts in the background, and then… have sex right there on the ice, or something of the like.

The reality is, they fall in a mess of limbs and hit their asses on the hard icy surface. Karkat blows some curls out of his eyes, looks around making sure no body parts got sliced in half, and checks on Dave, on whose chest his whole upper body is currently lying on sideways, praying that he didn’t push a sharp elbow right into any of his soft human organs.

As they lean up and catch each other’s eye, they burst in gleeful laughter.

* * *

Falling on your ass onto the ice in this context is the farthest thing from smooth ever. Okay, probably in any context, but the thing is that Dave barely feels embarrassed from the looks they’re getting when Karkat is such a clumsy cute little fuck and holy fucking shit how could he have _not_ realized that sooner its so fucking obvious i mean its right on his FACE its fucking adorable—

No use crying over spilt milk, though. Instead, Dave gets up and lends a hand for Karkat to steady himself so they can resume their dumb couple in love skating.

They do careful laps around the rink until Karkat reaches the point of actually getting a few sways in a row without much trouble. Eventually, though, their time is up and it’s almost time for dinner, anyway, so Dave guides him to the entrance and helps Karkat out of his shoes.

He looks up at the troll from the floor. “So, you still want to murder me?”

* * *

“I guess I’ll allow you to live for now. I mean, since I toppled you over and all.” Karkat laughs, looking down at where Dave is and flushing slightly at the closeness. He tried to help but four hands ended up being two too many, so he resolved to let the blond do his thing. “Besides, I had fun.”

From this higher point of view, he can focus on Dave’s white blond eyelashes, his slight soft smile as he bends over backwards for the troll. It gives Karkat a pang of _a billion things_ in his chest. It also makes him feel incredibly fortunate.

“Listen, Dave, there was something I wanted to say. You didn’t have to apologize to me. I should have said that right away.” He muses with a frown, rolling his eyes in worry. “I was out of line. What can I say, I sometimes just _explode_ ” he flails, “but it was only because I liked you- I like you so much.” He smiles down at him bashfully. “I was hurt so I couldn’t deal, but you didn’t deserve that. I should have known you were having a rough moment and try to be understanding, so for that _I’m sorry_. Or let’s just stop apologizing altogether.”

“…I don’t really wanna do… _an apology date_ , Dave. I just wanna do a _date_.”

* * *

Dave looks back down to focus on the task at hand and just smiles at Karkat’s answer. Then, when the troll’s tone gets more serious, he actually tilts his head up again.

His face drops as he listens to Karkat’s apology, breath cutting off abruptly at the boy’s fleeting confession. He doesn’t think Karkat notices, but he ducks back down to hide the blush on his face and finishes removing the intricate lacing of the skates to take them off and stand up.

What he hopes becomes obvious to Karkat by the end of the night is that Dave doesn’t mean this to be a pity date in no way whatsoever. He’s prepared this whole thing because he wants them to have fun and have some good times to remember despite starting off on the wrong foot. Besides, from what Karkat has told him about himself and Kanaya gossiped about her moirail, the guy’s a sappy romantic, so it can’t hurt to pull some clichés to make his swoon, can it? He’d promised to blow his mind, after all…

Amongst, uh. Other things.

The blond holds out Karkat’s shoes for him to put on and smiles timidly. “Yeah, sounds like a plan, let’s do that, then.” Then, as an afterthought, he leans down and plants a brief kiss to the troll’s forehead before quickly turning around to take the rented skates back to the clerk and turn in the locker keys.

As they exit the rink and get to the car once more, Dave throws his jacket into the back again and hops onto the driver’s seat. “So, you hungry yet?” He fits the key into the ignition and looks over at the troll.

* * *

The act of Dave helping him put on his shoes is so strangely intimate and loving that Karkat feels like something’s strangling his gastric bladder. Then the blond kisses his forehead softly and the spot burns, radiating heat that spreads all down his upper body, and he’s sure as ever that he looks like an Earth tomato. He’s briefly grateful the human’s walked off to the counter, except, _no, come back and kiss me more and everywhere_. A puff of air leaves his pursed lips in frustration and nervousness and warmth and affection and countless other emotions from his internal bubbling brew.

As they leave for the car, Karkat holds Dave's hand again. They did it earlier, he's allowed right? He likes Dave's hand. Dave is soft. Dave is warm. Dave smells so good.

Before he can snap out of it they're in the car and he's shyly leaning against his arm, already missing the contact. 

"So, to our next mystery destination." He smiles at him, then considers the blond's question. "Hungry... I'm getting there."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Katfishing now has a companion piece, [Sine-Cosine qua non Intersections](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27026377/chapters/65979286)! You might have noticed a sly mention to a certain older brother, and a certain best friend. They now have their own story, and together they are now part of a growing series and AU! 
> 
> [Sine-Cosine](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27026377/chapters/65979286) centers around **DirkJohn** and has a very different flavor to Katfishing, but we really do love it, so we're very excited to share it with you. We hope you enjoy it! <3


	9. Chapter 9

“Well,” he starts the car and looks in the mirror to pull out into the road again, “hopefully this time we’ll chat long enough for you to build an appetite.”

They make small talk as Dave navigates them downtown, then to a more social area he knows well from clubs and party houses he usually mixes at. On a less crowded street, there’s a restaurant with inviting half-lights that look like fireflies. He parks them on the small parking lot on the side and walks out with his date into the shop, asking for a table and being directed towards the back.

The place was refurbished from an old warehouse, which you can still perceive from looking at the brick walls with great arches and sealed doors. They’ve peppered them with professional graffiti that makes for artistic contrast between the old and the new life of the building.

The ceiling is striped with wooden beams that are sewn together by plant vines and power cords with hundreds of warm lightbulbs, creating a cozy ambience. There is also a curtain of wallflowers on the window, granting some measure of privacy from the passersby on the street.

There are leather sofas grouped with mismatching chairs and small tables, making small hubs in the wide main area. There are some groups of friends occupying them, chatting happily, drinking and nibbling on appetizers, but aside from that, the place is pretty empty.

Lining the walls are regular-sized tables surrounded by cushioned booths on the inside and rustic wooden chairs on the outer part. Dave and Karkat are led to one of those in the corner.

The blond slides into the booth and looks around. He’s been here a few times, after and/or before a gig, sometimes with friends, sometimes just him and his music. The staff even knows him by now.

“They have some mean flaming potatoes here, but it’s not for everyone,” Dave comments, then looks back at Karkat. His face looks fucking breathtaking under the mid-lights. “They have it with grub sauce too.”

* * *

Karkat walks with Dave into the downtown area, a stylish district where Dave mixes in perfectly with the cool beautiful nightlife people. That part of his brain he hates (one of them) suddenly screams _you’re not good enough for him_ and he feels himself shrink even smaller than his usual pint-size. Still, the way Dave leads him around chatting him up casually, warm and kind, reassures him a tiny bit.

They walk into the venue of their apparent destination and the troll gawks as they wait to be seated, his big amber eyes reflecting the myriad of fairy lights. It’s full of art, eclectic furniture and decor, plant life and… it’s lovely. It’s just like Dave, if Dave were a restaurant, which is a perfectly reasonable thought to have in a night of zigzagging emotional turmoil.

When they’re finally led to their table, Karkat slides into the booth with Dave, perhaps a little closer to him that’s strictly necessary. “So you brought me to your natural environment, home territory so you have a better chance of wooing me, is that right? Smart move, Strider” he laughs cheerfully. “It’s pretty hip.” _And romantic_. “I love it.”

Sitting in a booth with Dave doesn’t necessarily bring the best of memories or connotations, but he tries to push them down with all his might, nothing needs to ruin tonight, especially not his neurotic brain. _Come on, light conversation._

“Hey, remember when I found a rose behind the booth back at the café?”

 _AUGH_.

* * *

Dave allows himself a self-satisfied, proud lopsided smirk upon getting Karkat’s approval. Hearing him say ‘hip’ is pretty fucking weird, though, so his lips turn into a full-blown smile at that.

And if Karkat thinks Dave bringing him to a familiar place is a smart move, he’s going to have an intellectual fucking _orgasm_ at their next and last stop. He can barely wait to see his face.

The waitress comes by to hand them the menus, interrupting his drooling. He opens it to assess his options and maybe suggest something when Karkat asks him about the rose and Dave freezes on the spot, hiding behind the booklet. “Uh, oh yeah, vaguely,” he outright lies, trying to pretend the drink section is the most interesting piece of literature his eyes have ever stumbled upon. “What about it?”

* * *

Karkat’s pretty busy being entranced by Dave’s flawless smile when the stupid waitress stupid interrupts them to bring them the stupid nutrition list. _Oh right, they’re here to eat._

The way Dave answers his question from behind the menu without moving a single muscle is extremely suspicious, not that the troll hadn’t had an inkling for a while now. Still, he dramatically decides he’d prefer _death by swallowing molten magma_ to pushing the blond into an uncomfortable spot tonight, or ever for that matter. Perusing his own restaurant menu casually (what the HELL is a carpaccio) he simply says in a soft tone:

“You know Dave, I’d like you to keep something in your mind. You can always talk to me freely and with no fear of judgment. You can be yourself, and I would honestly want you to be nothing else. Ever.”

There’s that voice coming out of him that usually makes him cringe (and this time is no exception), it makes him sound like a strange mix of troll Jesus and Barack Obama, and it always leaves him feeling incredibly awkward, so he hurries to add:

“And what the HELL is a carpaccio.”

* * *

By the time Karkat answers, Dave is a fucking connoisseur of wine brands. Grape brands. Grape… types? Whatever, his heart is not dark enough to drink wine yet.

But yeah, Karkat definitely knows, which sort of kills the point of admitting to it. Instead, he reassures Dave, leaving the blond feeling guilty for not being honest about it. He wants to tell Karkat how much he appreciates him, so he does it the best way he knows how: “Sweet speech, man, thanks, I feel mad motivated to be as myself as I can now.” Then, because that was absolutely a trainwreck of a sincere ‘thank you’, he amends: “I mean. I appreciate it.”

Yep, the menu’s back in vogue, everybody, look at all these three colors it has, wow, so enticing, let’s all look at it forever. Only Karkat’s right beside him and is roughly a trillion times more beautiful and interesting, so he looks back at him when he asks about a dish.

Dave makes a face. “Uh, I dunno, man, I think it’s a meat dish or something? I usually stay clear of dishes whose names have not been dictionarized in English yet or otherwise foreign titles such as,” he leans it to read it because his vision is shit through sunglasses in dark places, “ _escargots_. Ok that one is actually pretty easy, but I have like three ongoing theories about what _foie gras_ means, since I’ve never really seen anyone eat it.”

* * *

“Everyone knows escargots are snails Dave, it’s one of the few things eaten on Earth that even resembles anything Alternian. Well, I guess in Thailand they eat grasshoppers and crickets, and I hear in Mexico it’s… common…” his voice winds down upon seeing Dave’s grimace, which is yet another adorable feature of his and fails to not make him laugh. “Sorry, sorry. I forget this tends to be an unpleasant train of thought for most humans. Except in East Asia. And Africa. And parts of America, so I’m not sure what the fuck is the big deal after all, but whatever.” His trademark wild gesturing misses any key items on the table, by some miracle. “Still, sorry. I definitely don’t want to make you lose your appetite.”

Karkat looks back at the blond, his freckled face still looking flustered and unsure, and he can’t help but reach for his hand, prying it off the stupid fucking menu in the way, and interlocking their fingers. With a warm smile, he squeezes the hand of his stupid sweet dumb nervous human.

* * *

When Karkat snatches his hand from the menu (Menu: 1, Karkat: 1), Dave immediately forgets what he was reading and focuses on the warmth of the troll's hand. And holy fucking shit is it warm. He has half a mind to ask if Karkat feels fine or if he's down with influenza or something before he realizes it's a dumb fucking question. Instead, he gives him a light smile. "Nah, it's fine, dude. I mean, I don't really wanna try it but then again my idea of gourmet cuisine is homemade mayonnaise on a hamburger so."

They settle for ordering drinks and the aforementioned spicy roasted potatoes after Dave assured Karkat that nine out of ten hipsters that can't tell mustard from cheddar recommend it, and then bribed the troll with the promise of asking for a side of grub sauce and trying it out too.

The waitress comes to take their orders and as Dave describes what they want, he notices her gaze flicking down to their entwined hands, then between the both of them and back up to the blond's face with a knowing look. When he realizes that, Dave unconsciously retracts his hand from Karkat's grip, scratching his shoulder to not make it so obvious. She writes the order down and walks away with a smile.

There are stressing thoughts in his head again as he sighs, but doesn't let it get to his face. Dave turns to Karkat with a smirk again. "So, you're friends with Kanaya, huh? How'd you guys meet?"

* * *

When Dave’s hand snaps out of his at the mere look of another human… it hurts. It can’t be helped, a painful twinge in his chest out of rejection, and that part of his thinksponge chock-full of self-torture blaring sirens deafeningly.

“I’m sorry, what?” Dave’s asking about Kanaya. “Oh! Oh. She’s my best friend in the world” he can’t help but speak with warmth and passion about her, “we came here together. In fact… let’s just say if it wasn’t for her, I might never have left Alternia at all. She’s an amazing woman, I’m glad you got to meet her.”

He hesitates. “So… your sister? What’s she like? Why would Kanaya not introduce her to me for so long…” Even though he already talked it over with his moirail, he’s still a little peeved about it. “Sometimes it made me feel like she was some sort of psychic Lovecraftian tentacle monster or something the like, what the hell.”

Looking back up at Dave expectantly, he hopes there’s not a shadow of doubt, sadness and disappointment on his face.

But then, hiding his emotions has never exactly been his strong suit.

* * *

Fuck, Karkat’s noticed. He’s all droopy like a sad puppy with flattened ears and a glassy stare. Hell fucking shit, Dave’s such a jerkface.

And it’s so stupid, because he’s got this amazing person by his side that he wants everyone to know about and he doesn’t give a fat fucking shit about what the staff of a restaurant thinks about him, about _them_ , but he’s _scared_.

_'You owe it to yourself to be your own person, Dave.'_

Rose’s words have been swimming in his mind ever since they’ve spoken before. It resonated deep within him, apparently, and they mean so much in so many ways. The blond tunes in again to Karkat and tries to get lost in the sound of his voice.

“No, that’s pretty accurate. I’d just add ‘witch’ to the list, because I’m like ninety percent sure I’ve seen her mutter a spell under her breath when someone corrected her grammar live once.” He leans back on the seat, stretching his arm over the top of the booth cushion. “Rose’s the oldest, along with Dirk, they’re twins. Both of them are evil, though, there’s no good twin,” he jokes fondly… although actually quite seriously. “She’s always liked reading and never grew out of her goth phase. Though the scene phase was hilariously more cringy, so I’d say that’s an improvement. Anyway, she’s a writer now, you don’t wanna know what she writes about,” he grimaces. “At all times and places and conversations with literally any person, Rose will try to vivisect her interlocutor’s brains, so talking to her can be like navigating a maze blind, deaf and tied up in chains while the floor is simultaneously on fire and covered in rusty nails. In short, it’s painful and leaves scars. She’s pretty cool though. Don’t tell her I said that.”

Realizing he’s ranted for some minutes, Dave looks away and rummages through his mind. “You uh, how was living in Alternia? What does Kanaya have to do with you leaving?”

* * *

Karkat snorts even at the start of Dave’s description of Rose, and by the end he’s laughing heartily, trying to keep it down to not alarm the whole goddamn restaurant. If everyone stared, Dave would probably be mortified after all.

“Wow, big family, I can barely imagine that… but I guess now Kanaya is my family. Yes, she is” he nods dutifully. “Rose sounds like someone I’d really like to meet, and who’d then proceed to annoy me greatly whenever I’m in the vicinity for the rest of my life. I have to tell you though, as soon as you told me Kanaya’s matesprit was your sister, I knew who she was. Rose Lalonde. Kanaya has sent me a couple of her books over these past months, although I gotta say I find her work a little on the heavy side.” As soon as that’s left his mouth he regrets it, she’s Dave’s sister. “Oh uh, fuck. Sorry, not to be insulting. It’s just. I like writing, and for a while I even thought I would… nevermind, that’s not important.” Blushing with embarrassment, he scratches the back of his head.

“Kanaya… she helped me escape.” This is an incredibly bad topic for a date in his opinion, but… he guesses he owes Dave the truth. “As a mutantblood, I would be sought after for execution, and when people were leaving the planet, there were a lot of patrols just… hunting down people like me. Preventing them from fleeing. Kanaya and I were already good friends, but she helped me lay low, get into one of the ships so I could get away and… live. I owe her everything I have. My life.” Musing somberly, he thinks aloud “I should try to be stronger for her.”

Then he looks up at Dave like he just remembered he’s there, and lowers his eyes to the table in awkwardness and shame.

* * *

Dave relishes in Karkat’s laughter, chuckling at his feedback about his sister’s books. “Yeah, her works are batshit bizarre, I take no offense. There were some things even I had to call her and ask ‘ _what the actual fuck, Lalonde_ ’ because I couldn’t sleep for days. She’s taken to writing some wizard porn lately though, I think it’s a nicer habit.”

Since he’s asked something else that seems delicate already, Dave files away the information that he likes to write for future further prying and listens to Karkat’s story.

Oh. Oh shit. It’s even worse than he thought. Man, Alternia kinda…sucked??? What the hell.

He’s a bit taken aback, trying to process everything. “Execution? As in, actual fucking _assassination? Hunted down?_ Jesus fucking Christ, dude, that place was _sick_ , and not in the swag way--”

Dave realizes he’s talking about _Karkat’s birth planet_ , so he shuts up. He heaves out a sigh, still trying to picture that land from what both trolls he knows have been describing.

In the end, the blond decides to only express his sympathy. “Man, that’s… really fucking shitty, Karkat, I’m sorry. Although…” A thought occurs to him. Dave bites his lips, pondering whether it’s his place to talk about this. “From the little tip of Kanaya I know, I think she would hate you to think you owe her anything. If you wanna owe your life to someone, owe it to yourself, man.” _Blatant plagiarism. Thanks, Rose._ “But uh, yeah. I’m just glad you’re here.” His face lights up in a blush. “Alive.” 

Then, he remembers the earlier moments and adds, low, “…With me.”

The blond doesn’t have to dwell too much on it, though, because the waitress comes by with their drinks and Dave promptly sets out to occupy himself with pouring his apple juice so he has something to do with his mouth. This is one of the few establishments around that gives few enough shits about standards to have bottled apple juice, which is one of the reasons he’s a regular. They’re aware of this.

* * *

“Oh fuck, I’ve actually read some of her wizard porn-” he looks around warily, hoping to not have said that too loud, like most every other word he’s ever said in the history of ever. “It was actually pretty well-crafted, except every single magical bearded sage sounded like they’d swallowed a thesaurus and they were slowly regurgitating it all throughout the book” he snorts.

Wistfully, he thinks back on his homeworld.

“Yeah. Alternia… I’m not sure why I still sometimes feel homesick for that horrible planet that desperately wanted to kill me but… yeah. It sucked pretty fucking bad indeed.” His arms cross with a somber expression. “Sorry, I didn’t want to bum you out with this. Let’s drop that, it’s ancient history anyway.”

Then… _they kick in_. Dave’s words, warm and sweet like a hot bath after a freezing day, melting all his worries away. Hinting. Giving him the hope of happiness, and safety, again.

“Thanks Dave… thank you.” It’s hard to muster anything else while his insides are squirming like that. “You know… I think you should give yourself a break too. Sometimes I can feel your stress all the way from my apartment, you’re too young for a stroke.” It’s mocking, but with a tender smile that finds his amber and scarlet eyes. He reaches out to touch his arm, but… he thinks twice and lands it on the table instead. “You’re gonna be ok, Dave.”

Taking a sip from his freshly arrived ice coffee, he declares “I’m fucking starving and those food smells are a delicious torture.”

* * *

Wait, Karkat has _what?_

_Karkat has read Rose’s wizard porn???_

He almost misses everything the troll says next because he, Karkat, has _read his sister’s porn_ , and that’s… he doesn’t really know how to feel about that. Another topic for therapy, he guesses.

Then Karkat’s apologizing again. “What? No, no, man, it’s fine, seriously, it’s chill, I’m not bummed, I want to hear more about you.” _Why the fuck does he keep making embarrassing admissions if he knows he can’t deal with them?_ “That is, I…”

Fuck it. He won’t take it back, because Karkat looks fucking radiant from them, reaching out to touch him, _fuck yes_ \--

Then he retracts his arm, wait what why no come back goddammit, he brought it upon himself. Shit. Stupid lousy fucking pride or sexuality or whatever the fuck it is. He can almost hear Dirk rolling his eyes at him, wherever the fuck he is.

Dave has to tell Karkat about this, explain it to him so that he makes it crystal fucking clear that it’s not because of the troll. Maybe… Maybe afterwards, but he’s afraid of ruining the mood. What if Karkat walks out stomping again?

“Yeah…” Someday. “Yeah, I am.”

He takes another sip of his juice, considering. Then, he drops the glass back down on the table and grabs the menu, then leans back on the seat and opens it before him, dipping it to the side so Karkat sees while discreetly scooting closer. “Well the incendiary potatoes should be up soon, but we can order the main course already. Damn, ‘main course’? That’s pro as fuck, Karkat. Check it,” Dave covers his mouth to do a silent sputter beat, “KK and I go out to hang tonight, drive up to a bar and bring out all the lights, no amateur night, yo, this time, shit’s… gastronomic, for entrée ricotta, mozzarella and gorgonzola, better get ya… antibiotics for the main course, of course, parmigiana, focaccia and… marijuana,” he improvises, then proceeds to disgrace Karkat’s ears with terrible rapping for a few more minutes, until the waitress saves him by bringing the blasted potatoes.

Dave only shuts up when he forces his hand to shove a burning potato in his mouth, predictably scorching his tongue.

* * *

Karkat’s eyes first grow to near the size of the dinner plates at Dave’s improvisation, but soon his rhymes have the troll giggling, to the point that towards the end he’s muffling himself against Dave’s shoulder to avoid making a ruckus, he doesn’t want anyone reminiscing dinner and calling them _those jerks from last night_.

Then the food arrives and puts an end to the ridiculous albeit endearing performance.

“I’ve gotta admit Dave, you have some impromptu skills” he admits as he observes Dave’s mouth exhaling steam from a piping hot tuber. He’d think with their delicate skin that would burn a human’s mouth like hell, but ok. “Such confusing, idiotic skills, but skills nonetheless” he teases, digging into one of the potatoes with his fork.

They’re pretty good on their own, a little spicy but he doesn’t let on, casually drinking a sip of coffee right afterwards. Then he dips a chunk in the bowl of grubsauce. “Mm, not bad. You still wanna try?” he smirks while waving his fork in the air.

* * *

No, he _really_ doesn’t, Dave muses as he stares at that… what the fuck even is that color? What is the source material for that shit? Does he even want to know?

“Heh, thanks. Those mad skillz scored me an invitation from the theater club back in highschool, so how’s about that for recognition, huh?” The blond jokes, popping another piece of edible ember into his mouth. Temperature is a suggestion.

Then, he nods. He’s promised, after all. “Sure,” Dave says, then casually leans forward and chomps the piece off of Karkat’s fork. His mind doesn’t catch on immediately, and he tries to run with it as far as he can before it does. “It’s… kinda acidic? What’s _in_ this?” He frowns, looking down at the bowl while completely ignoring his embarrassment.

* * *

“Grubsauce is like mayo, but without the mayo” he shrugs “I don’t fucking know, it’s made out of grub? It’s just kind of indistinctly colored and it just sort of… exists. You don’t just ask about grubsauce, Dave, that’s not what you do with grubsauce.” Suddenly he has the strange feeling that if he were ever on the other side of this conversation he’d end up furious somehow.

His cosmic multidimensional mental trip is cut short in confusion and _extreme distraction_ when he processes that _Dave fucking Strider_ just _wrapped his lips_ around the fork still currently in his grey hand, blinking repeatedly as he tries to get his thinksponge out of its blue screen of death moment. Dave licks a tiny spot of sauce off his top lip and the troll’s lips part, struggling to swallow and staring at that increasingly appetizing mouth for way longer than is modest. When he finally snaps to, he’s still holding the fork up and the blond’s giving him a curious look.

“So yeah, it’s good. Good grubsauce. Good tubers. And great together, tubers in grubsauce.” He hurries to pop a whole one in his mouth so it will _shut the fuck up_ and immediately opens his mouth back up to exhale, trying to blow out the heat in little puffs of steam. Fucking _ouch_.

* * *

Karkat's dissertation wasn't very convincing, so Dave stares at him, hoping for some clarification, but it doesn't come. Instead, the troll's brain's running program seems to crash and burn, because his eloquence skips some steps and he spouts some tautologies, unusual for Karkat.

Then, Dave catches him staring at his mouth just before the guy turns away and also hashafashas around a steaming potato. What is with them and burning their taste buds? They'll be needing their tongues later, thank you very--

...Wait. _What?_

Oh my god. Dave is actually considering-- no, _counting_ on kissing Karkat. A boy. A troll, who is also a boy. _And he can barely fucking wait._

It's all so new, but also not quite. It's a date like any other (ok, not really, because he's neck-deep into Karkat, no wait fuck that was a weird figure of speech delete), so Dave knows the outlines for the evening. They're having pleasant conversation, there's good food, they're having a good time.

Nothing is different from a date with a girl at all, and Dave feels dumb for believing it would be. What matters is that he feels giddy from Karkat's laughter, wants to hear it more, forever, and every time the troll blushes he feels like exploding from how adorable his face looks. Yeah, he'll admit to all that.

Maybe not out loud and not to his siblings, though. Not yet. Small steps.

By the time Dave comes back from his internal epiphany, he's aware of the heat on his face, but Karkat is far too close not to notice. "So uh," he clears his throat, popping another spicy potato into his mouth to fuel the fire of idiocy, "I was thinking of going for some pasta, actually, something inconspicuous, without too many languages involved. Whatcha in the mood for, Karks? C'mon, lemme hear your heart's desires."

* * *

They seem to be having a hot face competition, and Karkat thinks Dave is winning. Not that he can see himself, but, um. The blond is pretty fucking red, it’s so goddamn cute. The troll chastises himself once more for assuming too much when they met, that Dave was this aloof coolkid that couldn’t be bothered by anything, made of lewd jokes and one-liners. When the reality is… in front of him. A sweet idiot who cares too much and fumbles around charmingly. 

Dave has periods of endless introspective, mindless, or embarrassed rambling (or all of the above) and stretches of silence where he seems to retreat into his head (Karkat is pretty sure he’s also rambling in there) and it’s frankly adorable to look at, thoughts going through his face while Karkat gets to calmly watch him and melt a little inside, the way he sometimes frowns or flushes in reaction at whatever he’s thinking of, like now. Probably how the troll accidentally stared at his lips for so long?

 _Uh_. Is that what he’s thinking? And _getting red in the face about_? Is he imagining them _ki- NO, YOU’RE GONNA STARE AGAIN LIKE A DROOLING IDIOT. Say something. Right, FOOD. They’re EATING. In a RESTAURANT._

“I like pasta. And I like you.” He winks playfully and sticks out his tongue. Then pretends not to be blushing like a virgin and dives behind the holy shield of the menu, flipping frantically through the pages without finding the right one. “I’m usually partial to carbonara, but what if they have spaghetti and meatballs? We could have a really dumb Lady and the Tramp moment here. Push some meatballs with our cartilage nubs. Do they have a small stringed instrument player here?” Karkat peeks over the menu to smirk at Dave nervously after his lame joke.

* * *

Dave regrets asking because he isn’t ready for the sheer honesty of Karkat’s answer. He tries his best to play it cool, fails, and grabs his apple juice to have something to do with his mouth other than repress a huge fucking grin.

God. He feels like a kid in elementary school again, blushing about a pretty girl. Well, in this case, a pretty boy. It takes time to get used to it, ok? Don’t @ him.

But fine, time to show him what he’s made of. Dave leans back on the seat and smirks at him, the perfect picture of cool detachment if it wasn’t for the flaming shade of his face. “Damn, Karkat, if you want an excuse to get in my mouth, there are less messy and convoluted ways to do it, ya know.”

There’s silence for a few seconds. Dave starts sweating.

“Uh, I think I’m… gonna get the… white sauce… tapered pasta… thingy. It’s really good. Tastes cool.”

_Please, kill me._

* * *

Karkat stares entranced at Dave, with glinting eyes and a lopsided smirk, just resting his chin on his hand and saying nothing after the blond’s blatant effort to flirt with him openly. 

Maybe it’s the fact that when he ordered an iced coffee after quickly skimming the drink menu without much attention, he didn’t really expect to get a full glass of some kind of cocktail packing a punch. He thinks that might be tequila in there. That's what you get for getting distracted by unfairly attractive dorks in the vicinity instead of reading things properly. No matter, he still has to repress the instinct squirming warmly in his belly to cross the distance and kiss Dave on his beautiful lips, not to mention crawl onto his lap, throws his arms around that perfectly freckled neck and make a scene.

But Karkat is not a complete idiot (sic) and has already decided not to initiate anything serious. Dave has some boundary issues and he’s not about to see if he can push through them indiscriminately.

…besides, if Dave wants something specific he can suffer a little longer. <3

“That sounds… _delicious_. I guess I’ll take your rec.”

* * *

The way Karkat’s staring at him like he’s a tasty fucking tart is making Dave squirm. Can anyone else feel this, is anyone else seeing this or is it just him? Jesus Christ he’s gonna die.

The blond might flirt and joke around a lot, but he never expects anyone to take his advances seriously, or, at the very least, he hopes that they take them as merely illustrative of his interest. This guy here is spurring him right the fuck on and it’s leaving him disorientated. He didn’t think he’d get this far and he’s actually aiming for pleasant and romantic for once instead of…raunchy.

But damn. Vantas sure is full of surprises.

“Sweet,” Dave answers, for lack of a better or any retort at all. He puts down the menu and calls the waitress to order, using that period of time to calm down so his face will go back to its normal color.

When she goes back to place their order, they resume their idle chat, thankfully without too much flustering and blushing to manage keeping a level of coherent, friendly banter. Their dishes arrive after a while, when their glasses are empty, and they eat between comments about the potentially metaphysical meaning of the graffiti on the opposite wall. Dave claims it’s the deity of hipster rag bags, Karkat defends his theory of the image being the portrait of the goddess of handmade colored notebooks.

By the time dessert comes, they’ve established some solid ass rapport, filled up their tummies and the restaurant is a little bit noisier than before. Dave’s asked for some caramel apple crisp and Karkat went for the chocolate cake (“you can never go wrong with chocolate cake”, which Dave replied with a fifteen minute rant that only ended when the waitress came back).

Dave spoons his sugary concoction and shoves it in his mouth. “Oh my _god_ ,” he moans, “Karkat, you’ve gotta try this, dude, it’s like my bones just got five years younger from this shit.”

Then, he has to make a choice. He glances at his spoon, then at Karkat, then at his glass. Dave fills the spoon with a bite of the apple crisp and holds it out for the troll. “Here.”

* * *

Karkat looks at the spoonful of apple dessert, back at Dave, then back down at the utensil, and goes on in an anxious loop like that until it becomes ridiculous enough that the small part of his brain that’s not dead has to forcefully eject him out of it.

The troll takes the bite, making a bit of eye contact on his way but trying to not be overly lascivious as he wraps his lips around his date’s spoon.

“Mm, it’s not bad, I admit it." He rolls his eyes thoughtfully before the review. "Tangy, creamy, crunchy. But chocolate is better-” he barks out a laugh at the blond’s wounded look, “come on, even crappy chocolate is delicious. Want to try it?” He’s already taking a big chunk of gooey cake with his fork. “Of course you want to, how could you not when a menu outrageously claims their cake to be _Better Than Sex_ , it’s the perfect marketing trap and we are its slaves now.”

Karkat offers Dave the cake, relishing how soft his mouth looks as he eats it. A warm, joyful grin paints his face.

“I mean this in the best way possible, Dave. This is the cheesiest night of my entire life. And I love it.”

* * *

“Dude, don’t ruin the gastronomic experience for me! This shit’s taste is half emotion, half crappy sugar-stuffed industrialized shit mixed with overly chemical-coated produce, Karkat, what am I to do if I only have half of that plus my shitty sense of smell to go by?” Dave whines, then takes another huge spoonful of his diabetes glass.

Then, as he’d been pretending not to expect, the troll offers him his own, so Dave, like a gentleman, raises an eyebrow and plays surprise before leaning forward and, as discreetly and smoothly as possible, leans in to take the bite. He fails, because he misses the first go in his nervousness and some chocolate frosting ends up smeared on his upper lip. Naturally, he plays it off as intentional and licks it before swallowing the cake.

It’s actually pretty good.

As he sits there savoring their shared desserts and wondering how that would taste inside Kartat’s mouth (ew dave gross bad dave cut that shit out were in public), he notices his date’s grin and laughs nervously.

“Damn, that must be pretty fucking massive coming from you. I dunno, maybe we should call it a night before the last stop, then, I don’t wanna have you getting lactose intolerant, Karks,” he drawls, looking away with his spoon in his mouth.

* * *

Karkat laughs a little too loud at Dave’s dumbass quips, slightly due to tipsiness, but mostly because of how fucking perfectly adorable everything is in his life right now.

“The cake _is_ good, but it’s not better than sex. What do you think, was it better than sex? You don’t actually have to answer that” he reassures him with amusement in his tone, at the look the blond shoots back at him.

Dave’s spoon is still in his mouth and it practically forces a giggle out of the troll yet again, he’s so dumb and lovable, he wants to take that spoon out of his mouth and bonk him on his blond head with it, and definitely, _definitely_ not slide over to suck that tiny bit of chocolate he missed off his upper lip.

Karkat makes a point to remember to swallow, gazing at the human with eyes drunk on more than the house’s signature boozy coffee, an objective by-stander might even interpret it as adoration.

“You made all these plans for tonight, we made it through them without anyone storming off or even bleeding to death from an ice skate slash wound, it would be a pity to quit now. Might as well make the night _complete_.” He lets his fangy smile spread even wider.

* * *

A little bit past his initial flustered reaction at Karkat’s boldness, Dave pretends to ponder the troll’s question. “Damn, dude, that’s a tough one. I mean, both can make me jizz my pants, but sex involves consent while cake don’t so. Score’s looking grim for the naked roll’n’roll and bright for the tasty pastry.” Not really, but cake’s pretty good, he supposes.

As he finishes up his dessert and reciprocates Karkat’s smile in his own Stoic Strider version. He’s excited to show the next place to him and watch the universe unravel in those scarlet eyes.

When the troll finishes his cake, Dave drums his fingers on the table and leans into him. “Soooooo ready to board the ship again? It’s our last stop for the night and then we can take off or something, whatever, let’s go?”

* * *

Because he has no good excuse in his mind to imagine Dave during sex, except _cause he’s smoking fucking hot_ , a reason that Karkat hates with a passion in any given argument, his brain takes a different? route.

“Wait, how the fuck do you _jizz_ ” he puts the word between finger air-quotes “in your pants during sex, how do you do it with your pants on, at least with your buttoned-up pants on, I mean I guess, if you are th- YOUKNOWWHAT this is a stupid train of thought, let’s just go, yeah, let’s jump onto this rocket or whatever you said.”

His instinctive attempts to flee by slipping out of the booth quickly are tragically doomed to fail, as he takes Dave’s hand and drags him to his feet and behind him on the way out.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry we had a span without any updates! This holiday-adjacent season b like that. ;) Hope you enjoy!

Dave has to refrain from actually _giggling_ at Karkat’s exaggerated reaction to the mention of sex. They seem to just take turns at being flustered at that kind of shit, huh? But well, it’s time to go anyway. He’s just glad he’s paid the bill before leaving, he actually likes that place a lot.

With Karkat’s hands in his and a smile on his face, Dave follows the troll back to the car. He’s wracked with the sudden urge to gently push the boy against the windshield and kiss him, but that can wait a little longer. After all, he’s saved the best for last.

They get into the car and the blond makes the utmost effort to keep a straight face (or at least a discreet smirk). He drums on the steering wheel and waits for Karkat to fasten his seatbelt before starting: “Okay, so, wanna try one last guess at where we’re going now?” As he looks over at the passenger side, Dave takes in his appearance, his cool outfit, the slight tinge of color in his cheeks, his curly hair, his cute little orangey horns. God, how can he be so _small_??? That should also be forbidden. Then Karkat would be an outlaw and Dave would be a fucking accomplice. Badass.

* * *

“Uuuh-” is all that comes out of Karkat's dumb mouth at first. “I’m sorry, fuck.” Oh shit, he's giving Dave the scared wide puppy eyes look again. “You make me nervous! Oh gods, that came out extremely wrong, it’s not your fault. I just. Become a flustered idiot around you. More of a stupid moronic idiot than usual, is what I mean.” He tries his hardest to not be shaken by the simplest question possible, not very successfully. Wow, he has no fucking idea.

“Ok, um. Dancing!” _NO_. Why would you tempt the universe like that?! There’s been more than enough clumsiness for one night, or the whole rest of their lives for that matter. “Midnight zoo beast feeding tour. Beach moonlight treasure hunting. Late-night romantic beekeeping extravaganza?” he snorts. “Come on, you’re way better at these than me Dave, help me out here. Category is: preposterous random guesses on date activities coming out of Karkat’s stupid nervous mouth.” His lip gets caught in his fangs in a quirky amused smirk. “Ok. GO.”

* * *

As he watches Karkat gesture wildly and go through seventy shades of emotion, Dave realizes once more that he’s really into this guy. He loves how the troll wears his heart on his sleeve and often gets flustered about it, like he’s absolutely mortified that he can’t hold it back. Not that Dave would ever want that, he’s very much interested in seeing Karkat laid bare.

FIGURATIVELY. And uh, also, maybe not so figuratively?

His face is heating up again, so the blond looks forward and turns the key in the ignition, maneuvering out into traffic again. “Damn, if you put me on the spot like that… How about picking up litter under the moonlight? Romantic as fuck, right?” He jokes in a calm drawl, buzzing with those sweet, sweet endorphins from a nice date so far.

* * *

“Ah, the old dangerous waste retrieval romantic cliché. It’s great because it intersects two of the most truly swoon-worthiest aspects: revolting miasmas and a high risk of infectious hazard.” Karkat giggles in amusement, warm and affectionate, musing about how this could possibly be the worst date night topic ever, but at the same time, and no matter how ridiculous the conversation gets, he feels totally comfortable talking to Dave most of the time. It’s almost too good to be true.

…fuck. Shouldn’t have thought that, chutestink. Here it comes. Karkat tries to hide the shadow that looms over his expression by looking out the car window.

There’s something, a small but so deeply ingrained spot in Karkat’s thinksponge that _hates him_ , so far as to have considered himself his own kismesis in the past (how fucking _pathetic_ is that), something that won’t let him rest, won’t let him accept this lovely date might be real, refuses altogether that someone like Dave, quick-witted, charming, drop-dead gorgeous Dave, can find him… worthy. Why, why, _why_.

Dave deserves someone that sweeps him off his feet, Dave should have the best and most amazing, maybe even… Dave might be happier if he found a female companion, a thought that gives Karkat a visceral shudder out of pure rejection (self and otherwise) but it still lingers in his mind like a grim leaden weight.

There’s also the other part of his brain, yelling, SCREAMING (what else is new) that Dave LIKES HIM, Dave is HAPPY and SMILING and Karkat is A FUCKING MORON if he lets this opportunity go to waste out of insecurity. Breathing shallowly, he finally resolves to ask, in the smallest, shyest voice possible:

“...Dave? Why are you so nice to me?”

* * *

Focused on navigating the streets and lulled by their light-hearted back-and-forth, Dave’s face does a violent twist at Karkat’s question and he snaps his head to look at him so fast he almost crashes the car.

“What?” He tries to multitask processing what that means and switching shifts, stopping on red lights, turning on the right streets. “Wha- Why do you ask that?”

It’s occurred to him before, but he’d just brushed it off as Karkat being overly dramatic. Now, however, he has increasingly convincing evidence of the fact that the troll doesn’t think too highly of himself.

Yeah, he supposes he gets it. Dave is not someone whose personality pleases all, and for a long time that was a federal fucking issue. With time, though, he’s slowly learned to appreciate the people who like him rather than caring about what other people think. Not that he doesn’t still, but well, it’s progress at least?

Oh shit, Karkat is still expecting an answer. Quick, Dave, say something to reassure him.

“I dunno, man,” fucking christ, Dave Strider. “I mean, no, there are a shit ton of reasons, like, uh,” gods, he’s blowing this, “you’re smart and pretty fucking shady, got the giggles in you,” alright, that’s better, “you’re… very… good-looking,” there are at least fifty younger ways of saying that, but keep going, Dave, “you care about people and, shit, what else?” He taps a finger on the wheel, then sighs. “I don’t know, Karkat, you seem like a pretty dope guy to me, why wouldn’t I be nice to you? If anything I think I’m the one who can’t really fit under the quality of ‘nice’.”

All that because he can’t say ‘I like you’ aloud. Coward.

* * *

Karkat’s scowl doesn’t really diminish the further along Dave’s _list of objectively positive attributes of the person I’m sitting next to_ , not much. It’s nice to hear he thinks he’s _good-looking_ or _cares about people_ , he guesses. Not exactly doubt-annihilating, either.

On the other prong.

Dave, reaching out to him, even though Karkat rejected his second contact effort in the first place. Sending him messages with… his words. Looks. With _colors_. Holding his hand for the first time. And the second, and third. Smiling for him. Trying to repress that smile, and failing. Allowing _him_ his eyes. His warmth. His company. His jokes. A sweet kiss on the forehead.

Nervous about his reactions. Like _right now._

 _YOU ARE SO RIDICULOUS, KARKAT VANTAS_.

He doesn’t need to _say it._

A smiling pout must be a thing, because Karkat is doing it right now. “…I got you, Dave. It’s ok.” Now that they’re stopped at a rather jammed intersection, the troll takes the opportunity to lean his head on the blond's shoulder peacefully for a moment. From there, Karkat flashes him a big grin.

“But you better call me Karkitten again.”

* * *

Someone better call the committee for the motherfucking Olympic games, because Dave's heart has become an up-and-coming acrobatic athlete in the past few... minutes? Hours? _Weeks?_ Whatever, that blood pump is doing acrobatic fucking pirouettes off goddamn poles and wires because Karkat's head is on his shoulder and _oh fuck he's driving_ right ok dave breathe you can do this its right around the corner now you can probably finish this night without checking into the er-

"Alright, yes can do, Karkitten." His face is hotter than an erupting volcano, but at least his eyes are on the r-- ok no they weren't but now they are.

They turn on a street with some tall buildings behind a university campus. Dave steers into the driveway of one of them, pulls out the keys borrowed from Jade and presses the button on the controller for the garage gate. He parks on a spot one floor down, the space is pretty empty anyway.

When they exit the car and he retrieves his jacket from the back, Karkat looks somewhere between intrigued and terrified. Dave chuckles at that and leads him toward the elevator, the facilities inconspicuous enough to mask their destination.

The lift pings on the first floor and they step out. There's a counter with a tired-looking receptionist reading a magazine with some background music playing. Her eyes snap up to them and she frowns, but before she can get a word out, Dave explains, "Jade Harley sent me to do something for her in lab 706D, she says it's important. She gave me her keys." Just for good measure, he jiggles the keys linked to her ID in front of him. She looks over at Karkat inquiringly. "Oh uh, he's my friend, I'm giving him a ride home and I don't wanna leave him in the car." _Sorry, Karkat!_

The woman didn't seem like she needed much convincing from the start, but once she sees the company's logo on the card, she waves them ahead. Dave turns to Karkat with a satisfied smile and gestures him towards another elevator.

They go up to the seventh floor. This elevator is much more elegant, with a precise, sleek kind of design that almost makes you feel dumb. Yeah, the place has that kind of architectural pressure.

Dave leads them down the hallway, stopping before a door with the lab number. There's also a plaque that reads 'practical lessons' on the clear wooden panel. The blond fits one of the keys on the lock and opens it, stepping inside with unabashed familiarity and flicking on the lights before locking it again.

The first room looks like a small auditorium, some chairs lined up in two blocks with a screen projector and a whiteboard. That's not why they're here, though, so Dave navigates through another door, into a narrow hallway and into another locked room.

This one has chairs affixed to the ground on both sides, an aisle in the middle leading to a platform with a control panel and another wide board on the wall. Most interestingly, though, is the white globe-shaped ceiling above them and the weird looking projector around the center of the room. Dave smiles, seemingly satisfied with it, and stops in the middle of the room to stretch his jacket on the floor.

"Make yourself comfortable, I'll be just a sec," he tells Karkat, then goes around the totem to fiddle with the controls. He's had Jade teach him in the past and done it countless times since then, so that should be a breeze. As he waits for the system and the equipment to boot up, he saunters across the room to hit the lights.

After a few minutes of adjusting coordinates and time stamps, Dave hits the key to run the program and looks up. Oh fuck yeah, that's perfect.

Above them, projected on the concrete sphere, is a high definition view of the unmarred night sky from Earth, slowly twisting on its programmed orbit's axis.

"Ok so, I know this is far from ideal, nothing's as good as the real official thing, right, but the city lights make it fucking impossible to see anything besides the Moon or the Ursas or something so I thought we might make better use of this bad boy," Dave explains, lying down beside Karkat and taking off his shades. The light from the projection glints in his eyes as he stares at the thousands of stars above him, entranced. "Since, y'know, it'd be kinda creepy to take you out to the middle of fucking nowhere at midnight on our first date. Not a good impression to be at a completely deserted place in the desert."

* * *

After parking in an unassuming building, ascending in a mysterious elevator, and going through a reception with a confused clerk (did Dave just lie to her about them??) Karkat gets the distinct impression that Dave is _sneaking him in somewhere_ , and it’s a little bit thrilling to be honest. One more (fancier) elevator ride and a walk down a hallway later, they’re going into…

It looks like a sort of classroom. That shouldn’t do much generally speaking, but Karkat’s spidey senses tingle and a sense of utter excitement strangles his stomach as his gaze keeps track of Dave going around the room flipping switches, his amber and red eyes alight and a cute little expectant smile already on his face.

Then the blond is walking him next door, into a strangely proportioned room topped with some sort of… cupola? and oh, telling him to lie on his jacket on the floor. Wait _what-_

That would have been more disconcerting if Dave hadn’t darted off to fiddle with controls, lights, and other stuff Karkat can’t very well see from this angle, but who the hell cares because he’s focused on the human’s rapt and passionate expression that make him reach record levels of enchanting. Fine, he can sit on Dave’s jacket and wait while he observes carefully. No problem.

And then Dave turns something on, the lights go off, and they’re in the dark for an instant. And then… _millions of lights_. Karkat’s breath chokes in his throat as the room transforms into space, leaning back on the floor, enthralled. His voice barely manages to come out, strangled and small.

“S-stargazing?”

It’s overwhelmingly beautiful, his eyes wide and lit up with countless bright sparks, and with Dave joining him by his side, close and intimate, Karkat has to take a second to scrunch his eyes closed and try to swallow through that tight lump. Breathe.

Lying so, so close to each other, listening to the human’s silky drawl, bathed by the glimmering lights of the Milky Way… he has to reach for Dave’s hand and squeeze it tight, almost afraid he might fade into the air like a mirage. 

Dave is a secret nerd and the troll mentally protests that it’s unfairly attractive of him. It shouldn’t be allowed. Karkat’s breathing is accelerating, his heart is thumping wildly against his chestplate and he’s permeated with a sense of elation that is completely unknown to him. _This is fucking breathtaking._

He has to pointedly ignore the way he has to rub at his burning eyes for a second, so he can summon the voice to say:

“Will you tell me about them, Dave?”

 _Wait_.

He gently slips under the human’s arm that ends up snaked around his waist, with Karkat nestled in the perfect groove of the blond’s warm body that seems like it was made just for him.

 _Now_.

* * *

Today has been a pretty good day, Dave decides as he shuffles a bit to accommodate the troll in his arms, finding it all too easy to wrap an arm around his petite body. He smiles then, soft and warm.

“Hell yeah I’ll tell you about ‘em, Kitkat. Check it,” he points to the spot around which everything is slowly turning. “That part there right in the middle, which is not exactly the middle to us, but the middle of the loop here, is the north pole. Not as in, the ball-freezing place with the ice and penguins, but the north cap of Earth. Since we’re in the northern hemisphere, that’s the one we see. If we were in, I dunno, South America, we’d see the other one. Anyway, just file that information for a sec. Now, yeah, stars and shit, uh, where do I st-- oh ok got it see that big ass star over there, more or less at the center of the ceiling? Yeah that’s your mo-- Oh right you guys don’t have that, fuck. Okay that’s Sirius, shit is shinier than a bald guy’s head, we can even see it with just our puny eyes in the sky during clear weather, as long as the city’s fumes don’t fog shit up. It’s actually the brightest star aside from the sun that we can see without a telescope. The second is just a little ways to the side of it, Canopus. Rad, right?”

Dave stops his endless ranting to grin down at Karkat and is immediately distracted by how close his face is, how dilated his pupils are, how beautiful he is in this dark light. The blond’s breath catches in his throat and his eyes flicker down to the troll’s mouth, where he can see slightly pointy teeth poking out.

His heart is hammering in his chest and he’s sure Karkat can hear it.

“Yeah, stars, apparent magnitude, crazy stuff uhhh there’s… Orion, the constellation, and Orion’s belt, which is right next to-- oh right shit, I forgot to say, Sirius is part of the Canis… Major? Damn, memory’s failing me now. Let’s go with that one, it’s part of the Canis Major constellation that has that name because some stoned physicist hit a blunt and gazed at the sky while he was fried and said ‘dude that shit looks like a dog’ and now we have to come up with some dumb associations like ‘Orion is a hunter so he has a dog right beside him’ to remember where shit is located in the sky.”

As his eyes skim the scrolling white dots, Dave spots an interesting object.

“Fuck, I almost forgot, over there,” he points to a constellation right in the middle of the ceiling, “it’s a bit hard to see because fucking Venus, the absolute bitch, is kinda in the way, but uhhh that’s the Cancer constellation. Yeah, don’t ask, I don’t know either. Anyway, you said that symbol on your profile pic was your sign? This is what it refers to in our culture. Well I mean, at least on Western culture, and can also allude to some other meanings I don’t want to disclose at the moment so as to not ruin, well, everything,” he gestures emphatically with his free arm as he speaks.

Then, he’s silent for a second, but a thought is creeping up in his mind and slipping past his tongue. “So…” he rolls his head to the side to stare at Karkat. “I guess you could say you have a _stellar body_ ,” Dave’s lips split in a side grin, aiming for flirtatious and probably landing on nervously lame.

* * *

_'My dearest friend, if you don’t mind, I’d like to join you by your side. Where we could gaze into the stars, and sit together, now and forever. For it is plain as anyone can see, we’re simply meant to be.' ♪_

Nervously lame Dave is _so fucking attractive_ in Karkat’s mind right now.

He’s snuggled against this beautiful person, surrounded by stars, hearing a nerdily detailed astronomy lecture in sweet southern twang, and he can feel Dave’s pulse under his skin.

It’s magical.

He can actually feel Dave’s heart. Right under his hand, where it has landed under the human's collarbone.

Karkat’s chest reverberates deeply against the blond’s body, as it only does in the very few occasions when he’s perfectly content and relaxed. And if you knew enough about troll physiology, and had very sharp infrasonic-ready ears, you would be able to hear a low-trilling warble, as well.

It seems he might be in love, too.

Karkat can’t get over how perfect Dave is, regardless of how the blond towers over him he wants to hold him and look after him, make him feel safe and whole. As the human stops talking, the troll takes a moment, after absorbing his last cheeky compliment with an internal squirm, to run his claws through his pale hair affectionately.

Karkat would answer with his words, gods know he’s never short of them, but right now he’d rather just live in the moment and enjoy Dave’s closeness. Nuzzling against his soft neck, running his fingertips over the corner of Dave's lips, over those tiny little scars that somehow pepper his face (there’ll be time later), the sharp lines of his jaw, his chin.

The blond is about to open his mouth again, he’s about to go on another nerve-induced ramble, Karkat can feel it like he can feel his body heat radiating from his freckled skin. See it in his star-lit ruby eyes.

“Dave, would you like me to put you out of your misery? Because I know a very good way to shut you up, if that’s what you want” he purrs softly, right in his ear.

* * *

Karkat’s fingers threading his hair and tracing his face do nothing to calm down his thrashing heart. The noise’s worse than his rusty old washing machine back at home, and maybe just as shaky.

But the troll’s not too far off, either. Karkat seems to be…vibrating? Is that normal or did Dave break him? He does seem at peace, though, so maybe it’s a good sound? Jesus, aliens fucking _purr???_

Wow. He’s got so much research to do. Dave kinda feels grossly unprepared all of a sudden.

Then Karkat speaks and the blond’s breath stops. Yeah, his respiratory system just went there, it took one look at Karkat and said ‘nope, I’m not getting paid enough for this’ and fucking bailed. His lungs are no match for his date’s allure. How did he get so damn hot for this guy?

What he’s asking permission for isn’t complicated, though. Dave’s done it hundreds of times before, and for this he doesn’t need a thick manual on troll anatomy or some convoluted performance. It’s simple, even if nerve-wracking.

Karkat’s eyes are dark and shimmering, looking up at him expectantly. Dave reminds himself to cough up a reply and it comes out in a shaky, breathy laugh. “God, fuck, yeah, please.”

* * *

The blond’s enthusiastic response lights a small fire in the troll’s little belly. It’s so tempting to cast all inhibitions to the wind, be as passionate as his mind and body are _screaming_ for him to be, and possibly get a little carried away. Especially with Dave hovering above him like that, titillating.

But.

Dave is delicate and soft, Dave has gone through some shit, and Karkat is adamant to make this night feel as warm and memorable for him as safe, comfortable and protected.

Careful with the claws, his hand comes up to brush his thumb against Dave’s cheekbone, then down to cup his face. His other hand snakes up the blond’s back, a slithering caress up his neck to come rest on his nape, fingertips combing little circles in his silky pale hair. Then Karkat pulls him gently down. Just a tad.

Just enough to rub his nubby little button nose against Dave’s lovingly. To look close and deep into his brilliant ruby eyes (how can something so gorgeous exist), looking down on him hazy with… want? To feel his warm, slightly shaky breath.

Close enough that if he leaned up into him just a bit, Karkat could catch his soft lips into a tender kiss. The thought makes his bloodpusher thrum even more rapid and frantic in his chest, and he struggles to swallow. _Take a deep breath_.

Instead, he angles his head and comes just close enough, _just_ , to ever so slightly brush his lips against Dave’s, teasing and faint like the stroke of a butterfly’s wing, it’s so tantalizing, it’s beautifully excruciating and the troll lets out his own weak shuddering sigh of need. Then he turns his sparkling doe eyes back on Dave’s.

Pleading, smokey eyes that beg _please_.

* * *

Karkat's touches have no business being so damn good. Dave's pretty sure his whole body is fuzzy from the way he feels his skin tingle and his hairs stand up. He could just... melt, right there, leave a fucking mess for the janitor to clean. Actually, he's not entirely certain he's still solid.

Dave opens his eyes again (when did he close them god fucking dammit) and confirms that yes, he is as of yet in a tight disposition of molecules, fuck yeah. Not for long, though, apparently, because holy shit is Karkat close.

Well yeah, obviously, what the fuck did you think you were gonna do when you consented-- no, _asked_ him to shut you up, Strider? Choke you? Ok, nevermind, that is still within the realm of possibilities for the night, given Dave's track record.

At times like this, Dave knows he should do what he does when he has to take a cold shower: don't think too hard and just fucking get under the stream, it gets better and less agonizing later. However, this is not like taking a shower, something he's done thousands of times, for several reasons.

The first one is that Karkat is a boy, and Dave's never kissed a boy. He's equal parts nervous and curious. Hell, okay, he's like a billion times more nervous, you got him.

There are others, Dave remembers, but he's losing that train of thought because _holy fucking drooling shit pipes he can feel Karkat's breath on his lips and his own is coming quicker so he has to part his lips to suck in a breath and it's already so close this shouldnt be fucking dave cmon you can do it man just kiss the guy hes waiting hes hot you like him whats the fucking holdup jesus_

The blond feels light-headed, but it's probably because his lungs have gone fucking senile, apparently. Understandable, though, since Dave feels his mind crack and break at the sight of Karkat's round face framed by his dark curly hair. The color of his eyes makes Dave think of words he's pretty sure do not exist.

Alright, Strider, move. He slowly reaches up to fit his hand where his jawline meets hair and bites his bottom lip anxiously. His eyes fall to Karkat's mouth.

_Just like taking a cold shower, jump the fuck in and don't think about how comfortable you are, you'll get used to it._

For once, he doesn't spill a hiccupy laugh, nor some unsolicited rhymes, not even a dumb joke. Dave closes his eyes and presses his lips against Karkat's, pulling the troll closer to him under the starry (fake) sky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3


	11. Chapter 11

**FUCK**

…

Karkat opts not to acknowledge the desperate scream of elation that just exploded in his inflamed mind, in favor of melting into Dave’s gut-twistingly sweet kiss.

The troll’s arms brace around his shoulders of their own accord, tight, like he’s afraid Dave might slip away, and Karkat never, ever wants to let him go again.

Tingling fingertips running up and down the blond’s neck, dizzy on the sudden intensity and urgency of Dave’s mouth, grip, breath, a delicious knot in his stomach from irresponsibly opening his eyes for an instant and gazing at pale blond eyelashes, so close, flickering softly and speckled with starlight.

_What is he thinking? Or is he even? Is Dave just surrendering hopelessly into it, just like him? Or are his insides squirming with a million clashing feelings of warmth and fear, also just like him? Is it hot in here? Would he mind if Karkat’s leg curled around his waist? Would he welcome it? Is Dave thinking about him? Or anything at all? Can either of them ever fucking stop thinking?!_

…

Dave emits the softest, faintest, tremulous hum. 

**F-**

_Quiet_ , all his thoughts and anxieties, no time for you. He’s too busy enjoying those velvet soft lips in his, carding his claws into Dave’s hair, and sighing a lulled, pleased mewl right into his mouth.

Fucking. Bliss.

Karkat finally lets go of all conscious thought, and just lets himself love him.

* * *

It's easier than he'd thought it'd be.

Karkat's skin is a bit thicker than his and his teeth are a little more sharp, but it's just a kiss, nothing exploded, he didn't die from poisoning, no cops broke in and arrested him for gay crimes.

Still, 'just a kiss' doesn't really cut it. Karkat is fucking magnetic, Dave only knows how to lean into his touches and try not to outright moan in satisfaction. The troll is touching him like he's made of glass, which would be infuriating if the blond allowed himself to dwell on it, but, as it is now, he's not really complaining.

As awesome as he is, though, Dave is only human and breaks apart for air after a while, lingering close to Karkat and reluctantly opening his eyes. The troll has a sort of feverish, entranced look and it soothes the human's anxiety about the situation, even if it doesn't eliminate it.

He swallows. "Yeah, that's-- ok, that's gotta be my favorite way of shutting me up." Dave's voice is quiet as he catches his breath and looks down at Karkat's mouth, seeing the way it glistens with saliva under the lights in the room. "D'ya think I should keep talking then or...?"

* * *

As he feels him breaking the kiss, Karkat’s mouth follows Dave's for an instant, stubbornly and with a tiny groan of displeasure. _Give it back_. The troll bites his lip.

With a deep breath, he cools down a little bit. And a massive amount of discipline, since what he really wants is to straddle the blond’s lap and eat him alive. Ok, no, that’s a bad thought for someone who’s not exactly familiar and comfortable with aliens yet. Don’t say it.

But Dave’s right there, still so close, with pupils blown wide in those red-hot eyes, and lips still glossy with evidence from their kiss that lasted way too short. _Shit_.

Karkat fists his hand into Dave’s shirt and pulls him back down flush with him, to hungrily savor that mouth for a little bit more, just a bit, a taste, _pretty please_. Barely a couple seconds later, he pushes Dave back away from him, breathing heavily and afraid he might never be able to stop if they continue. 

The troll regards him with eyes that are half pure unbridled neediness and half careful observation.

“We can talk all night, Dave. Or we could _not talk_ all night, as well.” Karkat runs a finger, shy and hesitant, down the human’s chest. “Whatever you want.”

* * *

Oh fuck.

Karkat is implausibly hot. Is he even fucking real?

When he’s yanked forward for a demanding kiss, Dave lets out a faint whimper, giving back what Karkat’s taking from him. His mouth is unbelievably hot and he wants to kiss it for hours, until he’s sure he’s got every single nook of it memorized.

Then Karkat is pulling back and speaking in the sexiest fucking voice in all of space and beyond. Dave has no idea how this troll is single. Wait, is he now?

The blond swallows slowly, then licks his lips, feeling his tingling lips wet from their tongue-tying. “Ok I know you mean ‘could’ as in the general possibility for both potentially unfoldable alternatives but like, this place closes in like one hour and if we’re not outta here by that time they’re probably gonna hunt us down and Jade will get scolded and she will be insanely piiiiissed at me so,” he takes a breath, then tries not to blush too much, “we can…we _can_ do this all night, just. Not here. If. That’s. What you’d like…?” Jesus fucking Christ, Strider, that was THE lamest proposition in the history of ever.

As a bonus, Dave offers him a shy smile contorted into a light grimace, reaching out to grab the troll’s hand.

* * *

Karkat’s face splits into a wide tender grin hearing the way the blond talks, so fucking vulnerable and endearing. He has to take a couple long blinks and open his eyes back up, still finding Dave up there looking down at him, to believe this is really happening like this. He squeezes the hand that is holding him in his.

“What I’d like is for you to know that I want you to feel safe, and we can stop… _anything_ we’re doing whenever you feel uncomfortable, Dave. Please.” He smiles at the blond in a way that he hopes is warm and comforting. “That said… if I understand what you’re getting at… Kanaya is still in my bed!” he snorts against Dave’s neck, embarrassed. There really wasn’t a doubt in his mind that this would _not_ be the way the night would end, somehow. “So, there’s that.”

In sudden perception of his full surroundings, which in the last minutes had been reduced to Dave’s arms, Dave’s mouth, Dave’s eyes, Dave’s brea- you get the picture, he manages to recognize they are still submerged in a sea of stars.

“Wait… but…” he looks up and around a little anxiously, sparkles in his wide-open eyes and dark curls bouncing, “you planned all of this, and it’s so _wonderful_. I’d feel terrible not letting this date finish properly?” It comes out more like a question than he intended because the doubt is patent. He both wants to leave immediately and stay forever.

Unable to make a coherent decision, he looks back at Dave inquiringly. A thought does occur to him, though. 

“You know, maybe we _should_ consider the desert stargazing plan after all. That sounds really fucking nice actually. Maybe… on our next date?” he smirks at the blond with innocent but playful eyes.

* * *

Despite himself and the nervousness gobbling up his stomach, Dave laughs at Karkat’s embarrassment like a drunk idiot. He’s about to make a joke about Kanaya being in his bed not being a problem, but wisely decides against it. Too fucking soon, Strider.

However, Karkat’s reassurance, though it makes him shift uncomfortably a little from the softness of it, comes as a relief. Though Dave _really fucking likes_ what he sees, he’s not uhhhhh done much research on the… logistics of… yeah. That. So, he isn’t that desperate to get in bed with him just yet.

But there is not one single fucking thing in the whole planet or adjacent cosmos Dave would like more than to see Karkat again, holy fuck.

He looks up at the planetarium projection. “Yeah, fair enough. Maybe I should keep some rad star facts to myself so next time I can further ensnare you in my cobweb of tricky words and see if you can unlace the silk threads from your hair or if you’ll just lie there and take it or maybe I dunno I guess I’m the spider in this metaphor? I’m pretty sure I can make one fine joke about having a sting and shooting white strings of sticky stuff, just gimme a sec.” 

Dave forgets about that train of thought when he catches sight of another constellation he knows. “Oh, that’s Ursa Minor. There’s an Ursa Major around, too, because astronomers aren’t very creative. That’s why they went for astronomy, I guess,” he mumbles, then squints at a flock of white dots a little lower and points. “Hey what do you suppose that one looks like? Maybe like…a deformed toast? Y’know like when it gets too soggy from being soaked in juice for too long and it doesn’t look as appetizing but you’re still pretty fucking hungry so you pretend it’s something else entirely to manage to ingest it? I dunno those stars just have that kinda vibe to me. Sort of sad and melancholic.” He snakes both arms around Karkat and pulls him close, enjoying the way they fit together nicely.

* * *

“It looks like a stepped-on poptart to me. I like the chocolate grub kind.” Karkat laughs almost preemptively at Dave’s wincing. “Fine, I also like the classic human ones. Don’t bitch, you get all the variety with the human and troll-oriented flavors. We must have racked up like a hundred different flavors of poptart between the two. Hell, you could turn that into a rap, I bet. The One Hundred Flavors of Poptart Rap.” Karkat definitely didn’t just go on an endless rant about junk food pastries to try and get sex off his mind as much as possible, don’t be ridiculous.

Karkat is however quite glad to let himself be spooned, relaxing into Dave to a level that feels close to average troll melting point.

Looking up at the constellations, feeling Dave’s velvet voice resonating against him, his arms cradling the troll close and warm… Karkat’s body gets to purring way higher than the recommended voltage suggests. At least his embarrassment might slow it down a little?

Feeling Dave pause, he rubs his hot face trying not to look like he’s covering it up (too much).

“Sorry. I’m so comfortable and it’s just… stuff. That my body. Kinda does.”

Smooth.

* * *

Apparently, Dave isn't the only one who can ramble. Karkat goes off about pop tarts and-- seriously, what the fuck _is_ grub?? He'll have to look it up later, along with all the other things.

They keep trying to figure out the most accurate shapes and names for random clusters in the sky, debating whether three little dots look more like a pizza slice or the helicopter view of a bird beak. Karkat mentions things whose meanings Dave has no idea about and asks about some, but doesn't interrupt the troll to ask every time. They will have time for that later.

Oh my _god_ , there's gonna be a 'later'... Right?

Somewhere down the line of explaining the difference between a star and a planet, Dave frowns, then pauses, falling silent with his hands amid a weird gesture. "What the hell is that--"

He tries to trace the source and is surprised to feel the rumbling reverberating through him. Dave looks at Karkat in fascination and hears his apologetic explanation.

The blond's lips immediately part into a grin, though. "It's _you_??? Dude, you-- you _purr_??? Holy fuck, that's fucking adorable," he says and, without thinking, stretches out his hand to splay it out on Karkat's chest.

Mother of fuck. Karkat is roaring like a fucking motor inside. Dave briefly wonders if he runs on oil.

He's still staring at Karkat's chest when he realizes that must not be exactly appropriate and looks up at the other boy. "Sorry. Is this a troll thing or a Karkat thing?"

* * *

“It’s only when I feel really good…” Karkat immediately protests with a magnificent blush + pout combo. He also immediately regrets that awkward series of words. “I mean… when I’m relaxed and content, I guess?” Superb, because he’s not easy enough to read, already. Fine, in for a penny, in for a pound. 

“Our vocalizations are a troll thing, why would it be just a me thing?” _Right Karkat, because there’s nothing differentiating you from all other trolls in existence, you idiot._ “We have different physiological reactions to emotions and attitudes, like a different vocalization for when we’re in an aggressive stance, or sounds dedicated mostly to pale interactions. Like with your moirail. Some of them are audible to humans, but some are not.” The rumbling only gets sharper when Dave lays his hand on his chest to feel it, although half of that might be his hammering bloodpusher. It feels like it’s gonna protrude out of his chest in a cartoony heart-shaped lump.

“You know… if you have any other questions about troll things… especially troll anatomy… you should ask me?” Karkat shyly suggests, not exactly feeling the heat on his face subside. “It sure sounds better than an impersonal, potentially creepy or gross zigzag voyage through Gooble,” he finishes, fiddling with his fingers nervously.

Also, wondering in how much trouble he just got himself in.

* * *

It feels pretty fucking fantastic to know that he’s the reason Karkat is making this content type of noise, after all the ways their first date went wrong. Well, it seems this time he did _something_ right. Maybe several things. Kissing was nice. Shit, they really did kiss, huh.

Dave’s just lost like half of Karkat’s explanation by thinking about their kiss from earlier and he’s probably blushing, but that’s fine, because when his eyes focus again, the troll has a darker tint to his face as well. Wow he’s really into this boy. Wow.

He does catch the end bit, though. “Oh.”

Man, he’s got _so_ many questions. Dave could even go as far as saying he’s got _all of them._ The real issue here is which ones he can ask without making things awkward.

He wonders what other kinds of sounds Karkat can make and holy fucking crap upside down and sideways, that is such a filthy thought. Does that mean he wants to go home with him tonight? Dave’s mind feels as if doing 130 mph on reverse at night under a storm on the opposite lane with trucks driving on both sides. Also, everyone’s blind and deaf in this scenario. Are the drivers his brain cells in this case? Whatever.

“Uh, yeah, I guess. I mean, privacy and impartiality are some big selling points here for Gooble, but since you’re the one that’s gonna be on the receiving end of my findings, actually asking you sounds wise.” Dave is not wise. “Ok, I’ve got one, then. What’s the deal with your, uh, quadrants? Is that it? Like how do they… work, exactly,” he gestures in staggering motions of his hands, trying to convey something, though he’s not sure what. His confusion, probably.

* * *

Karkat’s dragged out of his continuous loop of silently mouthing the words _receiving end_ by that request. Oh. _Holy shit._ It’s gonna have to be the super abridged, non-Karkat-compliant version of quadrants. He’ll make an exception just this once.

“Um, ok. So. First there’s the flushed quadrant, or matespritship. Positive feelings of love and affection, and one of the concupiscent quadrants. That means sexual,” the troll shoots the blond a quick look, but doesn’t dwell so he can continue without freakouts. “It’s represented by a red heart shape… Dammit, I don’t have any pen and paper. Whatever the fuck, just listen.” His hands take hold of the human’s wrist, and he uses his index claw to gently draw a heart on his soft skin, subtle enough that it promptly disappears. “Like that. Probably the one easiest to grasp for humans, it’s just like y-”

HOLY MOTHER GRUB SHITTING ACID SLURRY OUT OF HER GANDERBULB CONCAVITIES, DO NOT SAY _LIKE YOU AND I_ , FOR BLOODY FUCK’S SAKE.

“…like your human conception of purely romantic love, I guess. Or… Rose and Kanaya, they’re matesprits, if we’re looking at it basically. Ahem.” Dave seems to be following so far.

“Then there’s the pale quadrant, or moirallegiance. Like me and Kanaya. A moirail is like a soulmate but platonic, people who perfectly complement and ground each other, pull each other’s heads out of their own asses if necessary. Also, it’s a conciliatory quadrant: non-sexual. Its symbol is a red diamond.” His claw draws on Dave’s wrist once again, making Karkat snort at his little ticklish jolt.

“Next. Um. Kismesissitude. The pitch quadrant.” Also the one that, in Karkat’s experience, tends to freak humans out the most. “A kismesis is like a rival or nemesis… but concupiscent? There’s a sexual component. Basically, two people who have both antagonism and respect for each other, they have a physical relationship but also they push each other beyond their normal limits to reach new levels of achievement. You might know it as a black spade.” Karkat draws a little janky spade among Dave’s freckles. “Very misleadingly known as a _‘hatefuck’_ by the way.”

“Last, there’s the ashen quadrant or auspisticism. An auspistice is like a sort of mediator that intervenes in paired relationships if needed, mainly to keep peace. Trolls- _used to be_ ” he corrects himself in time, but without as much certainty as he’d like, “prone to have very turbulent or passionate affairs, it was the auspistice’s selfless intervention that often kept them afloat. Another conciliatory quadrant, the black club.” One last dubious doodle on soft pale skin.

“And… that’s pretty much it? Ultra-abridged version, anyway.” Karkat snorts. “I can give you a lot more information later if you want. I have a powerpoint presentation.” 

Karkat’s still a little nervous about Dave’s potential perception.

“Most of us trolls on Earth have sort of relaxed that adherence to very strict quadrant configurations. I think,” he looks around thoughtfully “it’s a generalization, but I guess you could see it as us integrating a bit more into your culture. Of course, it helps that you don't get culled if you don't have a filial pail full of genmat ready... Uh, don't worry about it. Let's just say it was necessary in Alternia, but way more irrelevant here."

Karkat looks away with a certain amount of shame. "I… was never any good at quadrants anyway. Mine were always such a chaotic mess,” he sighs, looking unhappy at the prospect “it’s like I could never stick to one and always needed to pull whoever was besides me into a needy spiral of every single feeling jumbled together. It was a disaster.”

He looks back up at Dave, listening curiously and with the patience of a saint.

“Although I guess… I’m just closer to a human’s way of feeling things. I suppose." He rubs a little at the back of his neck, bashfully. "If that worries you at all” he shrugs.

* * *

Dave has a hard time focusing on Karkat’s explanation because…well, because he’s Dave and he has several issues and a half with concentrating exclusively on anything for more than ten seconds, but this time, especially, because of Karkat’s claw on his wrist. It tickles, but he keeps staring at the pointy tip, noticing the ways in which their hands differ.

Ok, so, it’s like a deck of cards. With… four cards, apparently, and four suits. Heart is the bae, ok, cool. Moi…rails, like bffs? That sounds close enough for now, let’s plaster that sweet label on the blackboard of his mind. Maybe, in this context, John would be his moirail? His tight homie or something, which sounds pretty gay. Well Dave is apparently gay now so maybe he should get used to saying gay shit. Is he gay though? Right, shit, Karkat’s still talking.

‘Kismesis’? They sure have creative names for relationships. So these are like frenemies? Or something? A little more constructive maybe? And auspicic-- auspitic-- the fucking club quadrant, jesus fuck, is the third wheel. Gotcha.

Wait, holy shit? They needed another person so their relationship would work? Damn, almost sounds like… You know what, nevermind.

He doesn’t ‘gotcha’ completely, but the outline is there, he just has to as a bunch more times until Karkat gets pissed and Dave has to resort to TouYube elementary school vids to finally get it. Maybe he’ll take him on his offer for the slides presentation, but this will do for now.

When the troll stops running his finger across Dave’s skin (much to the human’s disappointment), the blond looks up. The last few minutes have been an avalanche of troll terms, and the more Karkat talks, the more Dave has to lag behind to catch up. Who is he kidding, he’s completely thrashed by the snow storm, he can’t remember a fucking quarter of the words his date has used.

So… if he’s got this right… “That means, if we’re going by Alternian standards, I’d be your uhhh heart quadrant, right? Or is it like, more intense than this? Just abstractly simplifiedly for the sake of exemplification,” Dave quickly amends and idly pulls Karkat’s hand to give him something to do with his hands. “But if that kinda thing isn’t the law anymore, then…”

He doesn’t know what he wants to ask. Something about concupiscence, most likely.

“I mean, as far as human relationships go, I think we get a bit of everything you just described. Maybe you just needed to find your place in the universe…?” God, Dave fucking sucks at comforting people. He hopes the nervous smile he’s pulling on conveys the sentiment, because his words sure as fuck aren’t cooperating.

* * *

Karkat's amber and scarlet eyes shoot up to pierce into his date's, while a giddy thrill runs all down his body. Ffffuck. Maybe his instincts weren't that far off after all.

"Yes, Dave. I'd very much say you're _in my heart quadrant_ ," Karkat laughs, looking affectionately at his stupid sweet potential matesprit.

"But yes. Essentially, human relationships are like the opposite of quadrants, everything tossed together in an unholy pile. And somehow it makes perfect sense to both love, hate, be friends with and mediate with the same fucking person." His curly hair twiddles as he shakes his head, frowning yet amused.

"But yeah. Maybe it's just as well." Karkat squeezes the hand wrapped around his, and uses his other hand to trace Dave's knuckles with his fingertips. Cause just touching Dave in any way or form feels fucking amazing, ok?

"I guess. Maybe I _did_ have to go halfway across the galaxy to be where I should. The red-blooded, quadrant-defiant troll." Pensive, he pokes one of his horns, a gesture that seems to be there almost to remind him _it won't be that easy here, either._

"What's your place in the universe, Dave?" He asks, jokingly. But not that much.

And, upon noticing the way the blond curiously observes his horns, "and would you like to touch them?" with a wide grin.

* * *

“Oh ok cool,” Dave nods, even if he feels a little dumb from oversimplifying it to grasp it. His eyes are bare, which makes it even more intense, so he keeps his gaze on their hands, where Karkat is brushing his fingers ever so softly across his skin.

Being with Karkat feels… thrilling, nerve-wracking, but also… easy? It doesn’t feel like he has to hold back too much, even if he refrains from voicing literally _every_ thought that comes up in his mind. Karkat doesn’t expect him to be anyone else but himself, as he’s stated himself, and Dave feels it under his skin.

When there’s suddenly a loaded question thrown onto his lap, Dave laughs nervously. “Damn, Karks, bringing out the mindfuckers so early into the night? Roll a guy a blunt first, dude.”

Karkat’s eyes are too much then, so he tries to focus on a point in his forehead and what the troll pointed out just now catches his attention. He’s never paid much attention before lest it seemed like he was gawking at Karkat’s species as if they were freaks, but now that the blond has the chance to look closely, the color of troll horns is actually pretty rad. It’s dark red at the base, fading into yellowish hues through an orange gradient.

Yeah, okay, _now_ he’s staring, and Karkat’s noticed.

“Isn’t that like… culturally insensitive, is this a trick question?” He looks back down at Karkat, who looks like he’s having a good time fucking up his head with Alien Biology 101. “Do you have feeling on them? If so, is it like a nail? Shit, is that _also_ xenophobic? I wonder if there’s a scale of xenophobia depending on from how far you came. I think in your case it would be teraxenophobia and fuck that sounds bad.”

* * *

“They’re sensitive.” Karkat simply says, smirking at the blond.

“What kind of nookdouche would turn that into a trick question? Come on. Also, I don’t really see how you can be xenophobic while having an open discussion about interspecies physiology. I think. You’re more than welcome to try though,” the troll snorts, he wouldn’t put it past Dave to somehow get creative enough to succeed. And it sounds like it would be unreasonably entertaining.

 _It is_ amusing to make Dave fluster a bit, he’s not about to lie. He’d never make him ill at ease purposely, in fact Karkat'd be quite glad if he managed to make the human melt into a gooey pool of relax and comfort, it’s just… Dave’s fumbling around their interactions, blushing and aflutter, it makes him…

It makes Karkat feel so _wanted_ , and he's never felt it before, not like this. It makes an unspeakably hot yearning grow in his guts.

Any kind of physical contact they can get seems like a relief right now. He wants Dave’s hands and fingers _anywhere_ and _everywhere_. Or, UH. In- in his hair is fine. 

Almost unprompted, his head rests itself against Dave’s chest. God, he smells so goddamn amazing and delicious.

“You can touch me if you like.”

* * *

Dave smiles at Karkat’s ‘offer’. “Don’t tempt me, man, I take that kinda stuff as a personal challenge sometimes.”

Then, the blond feels his face burn as he leans into him, settling on his chest. Touch… where??? Oh shit, that definitely sounds lewd. Get your head out of the gutter, Strider.

Hesitantly, Dave puts a hand on Karkat’s head, sliding his fingers into the curly locks. It’s surprisingly soft and _dude, dont say ‘soft as a girls hair’, thats shitty_. He moves it carefully through the dark strands, pushing the troll’s hair back gently, exploring.

Karkat is purring beneath him, sounding happy even to his human ears, and they’re both pretty comfortable, from what it looks like. Dave, however, has his heart on his mouth from every touch they’re sharing.

It’s not like he wasn’t Jade’s friend before they started going out, but this feels… different? Dave feels like he’s taking a step he shouldn’t be taking, even if nothing feels forced.

But maybe that’s because he was told this is something he shouldn’t do? Wow, suddenly, ‘bros before hoes’ takes on a whole different meaning. No, wait, get back on track here. Dave compares this situation to how he would (probably) act around a girl. Would it be the same or would he be less nervous?

Or is it because he likes Karkat more than he thought?

His hand bumps into a nubby horn and he curiously runs his fingers up the hard appendage. The texture is a little rough, but still fairly smooth. I don’t know, ok, don’t ask.

The colors are vibrant and it adds to the troll’s alien image, but Dave is not really freaked out. Well, too much, at least. Mostly, he’s intrigued that he’s never really paid attention to their species before. He supposes it’s a common feeling between humans, if you don’t count the people who actively spread hate towards them.

That’s dumb, he realizes, along with other things humans condemn in their conjoined society.

After spacing out for fuck knows how long, Dave comes back down to Earth again and focuses on the cute boy snuggled against his chest. Yeah…he can see himself dating Karkat… although some associated activities are still a little muddy in his mind.

His face grows hot again and he wishes he hadn’t taken off his shades. Dave casually looks up when he asks, still stroking Karkat’s hair: “Hey Karkat, how do uh. How does…it…work?”

And that’s all he manages. Congratulations, Dave.

* * *

Dave’s fingers come down on him and Karkat immediately purrs like a revved up lawnmower. Duh.

Whether touch-starved as hell, or maybe exclusively from longing so fucking hard over Dave, someone he had already accepted that he wouldn’t ever get anything close to signs of affection from… it’s so good it’s making the troll feel high, every nerve in his body like a buzzing live wire, his…

Oh, crap.

Karkat opens his eyes slowly, a bit afraid of the result.

…there it is.

Or more accurately, it’s kinda hard to tell what’s there. Because in the haze of all the attentions, of inhaling Dave’s scent and, ill-advisedly, probably a bunch of human pheromones, and that caressing touch on one of his _very fucking recently discovered_ most sensitive spots, his pupils are BLOWN THE HELL WIDE to the point of there being little amber and red left to see, and everything is blurry and fuzzy in his line of sight. Especially warm, doting, cuddly Dave. It’s not AROUSAL, shut up. It’s more like an… Affection. Trance. Thing.

That shit was _definitely not supposed to happen._

Dave’s fingers are still gently playing at the base of his horns, and the troll can barely contain a shudder. Is this wrong?

His gaze snaps up to the blond, so at the very least he can be aware of what’s happening to Karkat. Just from the touch of his fingertips. With a breathless sigh, he calls for his attention, “Dave…”

Too slow? Now he has a query to answer in this state. He tries to swallow and focus, look up at Dave’s eyes and concentrate on thinking and talking. It’ll be ok.

_…please don’t freak him out. God. Please._

…

OH SHITTING CHRIST, SIGNLESS FUCKING SUFFERER AND ALL THE GODS OF UNMERCIFUL CREATION, HE JUST ABSORBED THE ACTUAL MESSAGE IN DAVE’S QUESTION.

And now he’s candy apple red all over, on top of his dilated ocular light closures making him look high as balls. Perfect.

“Down… there?” he rubs his palm against his hot cheek timidly.

“…do you know what a bulge and a nook are?”

* * *

A _what_ now? Oh shit, those both sound ominous and alien. The mental image his brain’s unnecessarily provided him isn’t helping, either.

Ok, it can’t be that bad. I mean, his fucking sister is dating a tro-- nevermind, Rose is freaky as fuck. Oh god are there tentacles involved? He’s afraid to know and to not know too.

He can feel Karkat beaming hot on the points of contact between them, but he still can’t bring himself to face him. God, they’re both morons.

Dave swallows, still shyly stroking the troll’s hair, now more like a calming, self-comforting motion. “…no? I mean yeah, but not in this context I guess, no. I can take a wild, blind, fucking batshit guess at it, under the potential risk of getting slapped and or murdered by you at best, or getting chased down and tortured by Kanaya at worst because honestly I can’t imagine anything worse than her being pissed except maybe Rose or Dirk being pissed, those two can hold a grudge through a fuck ton of incarnations.” And he’s rambling again, delaying the dreaded explanation.

The blond sighs, then looks down at the troll. “Ok, Karkat, full disclosure, bring unto me that sweet xenoanatomy lesson, I’m ready.”

When he does register Karkat’s expression, though, a bolt of…something runs down his body. “Uh, are you okay, dude?”

* * *

Karkat snorts, “I see you got Kanaya’s number already. I have no idea who this Dirk person is, but I think I like them. I’m glad to know I’m the preferable murderous option for you, though.” _Stupid adorable blond is making him laugh way more often that it can possibly be healthy for an average adult grumpy troll._

Every time Dave’s hand moves the troll’s head leans into its combing fingers instinctively.

“I’m fine. It’s just. Feeling really good.” 

…which is heavenly but not exactly helping his physical _or_ mental state. As he clears his throat academically, he props his body back up into a sitting position and adopts a zen-like posture. Yes, talking will keep them away from an awkward fiasco.

“Ok. Nooks and bulges.”

Karkat’s doped up 8-ball eyes roll pensively, as he muses how the hell to approach this topic.

“It’s not really that different.” Debatable? “Except in your species, the female sex individuals have the nooks, and the male sex ones have the bulges. And chutes, I guess. That’s in a very binary way of speaking, though I suspect that should stay a whole different can of worms for the time being.” As the troll gestures somewhat peeved at his own internal rant, his pupils start to come back from their bottomless pit mode. 

“I don’t know what’s… worrying you? You can tell me or not, but basically, we work with the same _tools_ as you, if there are some morphology and functionality differences, but not huge ones. Except, you know. Unlike humans, most trolls have. Both.” Karkat looks up at the entranced blond bashfully.

“Did that make sense? I guess it might be somewhat easier to understand with visual aid.”

* * *

Dave makes a face at Karkat’s answer. ‘Dirk’ and ‘like’ are not commonly correlated in a sentence. Or in real life. That’s just how the guy is.

But he would prefer discussing that a hundred times over what they get into instead. Fuck.

“Worrying? I’m not worrying. No, I’m cool as a refrigerated cucumber. Bitches be using me to chill bumps on heads from how fucking ideally low temperatured I am, trust me, the Celsius count is nailed down to the last decimals.” Aaand he’s lost track of what he’s saying again.

At this point, Dave’s not even sure about what it is that he’s afraid of. The clearest thing that comes to mind is ‘fucking up with Karkat’, maybe by making a face or saying something inadvertently stupid and/or offensive. The troll seems open enough to offer a more educational approach, though, which makes him a little less nerv--

Wait a _what_???

“Visual aid,” Dave repeats, kind of disconnected from himself, before his soul all of a sudden bears down on him again and he stutters. “Dude, as hard as I’m vibing with you right now, we’re still in a public space, y’know. Besides, I’m…”

 _…not feeling ready for that yet_ , he means to say, but what if he’s never really going to be ready for that kind of thing because he’s a coward and hes comfortable living life with the same damn visions someone else crammed into his head even if he no longer agrees with them and they dont always result in his ultimate final unhinged happiness like he feels he can graze with his fingers in moments like these with Karkat which I would rather stab my eye with a spoon and eat it rather than forget or possibly let go because I can’t give him what he wants--”

Dave freezes when he realizes his lips have been moving. Shit. Since when has he been mumbling aloud?

“Uh. Sorry, yeah, it’s no big deal, I was just… curious,” he tries. “Sounds easy enough. Bulges. Nooks. As long as it doesn’t try to bite me.”

His speaking rights should be permanently revoked.

* * *

Karkat stares at his blond incredulous, and at the same time trying not to laugh.

“I meant a visual aid like a graph or… ok, that wouldn’t be very visual. An anatomical drawing? Whatever’s visual that’s not randomly Goobled nasty porn. Not that I mind, obviously. It just sounds like a potentially scarring and terrible choice for a first contact.” Wow, that is not helping quite probably.

…

Dave _is_ worried, Dave is not _cool as an Earth elongated green phallic gourd_ , and Dave is beyond freaking out according to the ramblemumble that just escaped from his pretty lips.

…

Parts of which was all hells of distracting. 

“Dave… why would you think that’s _what I want._ ”

FUCK YOU, all past, present and future Karkats. We all know you’ve been horny for a solid _perigee_.

“…ok. How about this.” Karkat rests his fluffy head back down on Dave’s chest, and tries not to get sidetracked by how loud he can hear his human heart drumming inside his ribcage. “How about… you let me make this executive decision for us.” His clawed hand gently pets the blond’s taut stomach soothingly.

“Let’s not do… _anything_ like that yet. I never expected to, and I had the best night ever. I mean it.” He flashes a genuine smile up. “And you can’t just get rid of me by having _mild xenobiological compatibility issues_ , idiot. You’ll have to find a way better method. Like, I don’t know, telling me _KARKAT, SCRAM_. Or probably through a carefully crafted breakup rap. That’d be the most interesting way I’ve been rejected by the way.” Karkat chuckles nervously, hoping to god not to be rolling something downhill. “The point is, you don’t have to worry, you _most definitely_ don’t have to pretend not to worry, we’re not doing anything uncomfortable, we’re gonna keep hanging and looking at stars together. And that’s pretty fucking great.”

With a contented sigh, and the instinct that everything’s gonna end up fine and that he’s endlessly thankful for, Karkat just lets himself rest on Dave peacefully and enjoy the quiet and closeness with no further probing.

…

 _Almost_.

“Of course, we can kiss again if you want. That was pretty… chill?” Mental note: should really stop trying to use _Dave words._ “Is there such a thing as relaxing makeouts? OH GOD why am I still talking. Still, if you want. That might be nice.”

_Fucking Sufferer on rollerblades. Let’s just stop everything, especially the noise coming out of his stupid seedflap, and hide that creeping blush on his burning face against Dave’s body. That works._

"Now you say something, for fuck's sake."

* * *

Unsurprisingly and mercilessly, Karkat has caught the end of his voiced panic and called him out on it. It’s… unexpectedly… not horrible? He’s so fucking gentle about it. Why the fuck hasn’t this guy bolted yet.

But the fact is that Dave is indeed relieved. There are still some things and a half he needs to sort out, so it’s probably for the best. He never got to that PornGrub session, anyway. Eugh, ok, let’s not thing about that right now. The idea that Karkat might envision him doing that is somewhat unsettling. Maybe he’s afraid to disappoint him?

In the end, the blond ends up nodding slowly, pressing his mouth tight. “Yeah. Yeah ok, that sounds… nice.” Dave’s thankful he doesn’t have to meet his eyes for this. “Or rather, ‘pretty chill’,” he teases, lips betraying him and flashing a grin.

Then, on Karkat’s suggestion, he reaches up to hesitantly cup his face and bring him closer to seal their lips together. A ripple of heat runs down his body and coils in his belly when their mouths tangle.

Kinda feels like free falling, except he doesn’t really expect to hit the ground anymore. Well, at least not for now.

It’s dangerously easy to lose track of time with Karkat, touching him, exchanging awkward questions and soft kisses, to the point Dave forgets why it’s dangerous to lose track of time.

He only remembers it when a telephone rings somewhere in the lab. Shit, time is apparently still a thing. Lame.

“Oh shit, the building’s closing. Sorry, Karkles, that’s our cue,” Dave laments, pulling back and looking at the door. Damn, and here they had all this fucking build-up just to end so quickly.

* * *

It’s ridiculous, how good Dave’s soft plush lips are on his, how his seductive candied voice sets a delicious knot in the pit of the troll’s stomach, even when it’s occupied with foolish awkward words that make them both giggle. Karkat drinks him up, with his eyes closed in bliss, inhaling his sweet warm scent with every sigh... Relishing every second their bodies get to be tangled around each other, every time their skins come in contact, every hum, pant, groan... he has the feeling he’s never going to be able to get Dave out of his blood again.

And just like that, it’s time to leave.

Dammit…

“I don’t wanna let you go.” he confesses with a smirk, his eyes darting down in a timid gesture. Pretty sure he’s blushing soft pink again.

“Guess our time is up,” Karkat drawls as they lean up. “But hey. There’s always the trip down in the elevator.” He dedicates a mischievous look and smile combo at the freckled blond, as he tugs at his hand.

Makeouts in the mirror-coated elevator are perfectly fine, _more than fine_ indeed, but one thing’s still itching at the back of the troll's conscience, and he’s kind of bad at not obsessing about shit. Pretty fucking terrible, actually. 

“Dave…” he forces their lips to part momentarily, eventually. “I wanted to ask about. Your scars?” The troll shoots a pained look up at him. “I don’t mean to dig up any sort of… details. I just want to know. You know. That you’re safe,” he rests his curly head lightly on the blond’s shoulder, still looking up at him with a little shy toothy smile. “Or, alternatively, if I have to dig up the old rainbow sickles.” He tries to scowl, but ends up grinning playfully.

* * *

Dave is caught slightly off guard by Karkat’s proposition, which only gives him time to look away and embrace the hot flush that darkens the skin under his freckles. Oh well, just another one into the jar, he guesses. This evening was mad bountiful.

Then,

_‘Your scars?’_

His expression falters.

It’s pretty fucking adorable that Karkat makes an attempt at looking threatening, even if for like half a second. Dave chuckles nervously, because or despite the tension, and gets up to shut down the equipment.

“Relax, dude, I’m cool now. We all are,” he adds, then berates himself for it because now he probably owes Karkat some more explaining. “Uh, me and my siblings. We’re all safe now. No need to get your gay communist weaponry in a twist. Save them for the uhhh queer dictatorship or whatever the fuck alt-right’s into these days.”

He chews on the inside of his cheek as he deactivates the projector and displays. At some point, he’ll have to tell Karkat. That is, of course, if they keep seeing each other.

That thought excites him. Dave smiles minimally to himself. Yeah, this feels good. He hopes he can have this small share of happiness without too many consequences.

Ok, let’s just-- dump that whole train of thought into the abyss of Shit To Talk About In Therapy which he’ll probably forget, but that’s kind of the exact point right now.

When he’s done and the lights are on again, Dave slips on his shades and stands before Karkat to pull him up and retrieve his jacket from the floor.

As they move to exit the lab, he recalls Karkat’s words.

“You know… even if we’re not, uh. Doing anything R-rated — for Raunchy obvs —, we can still, I dunno. Chill at my place, if you want.” He looks up at Karkat with his head ducked down, shuffling his feet in the elevator area.

* * *

“They are not- what- GAY COMMUNIST WEAP- you know what, never the fucking mind. But okay.” The troll simmers down and softens his frustrated tone, with hopes of not have gotten too riled up, but Dave seems to be relaxed and smiling. “I am glad to hear that.” He has trouble pushing his innate instinct to always give way too many fucks even about things that aren’t any of his goddamn business deep down, but refrains from asking about Dave’s siblings, their past, and their marks. Wisely. But it still stings, and he's not gonna forget it any time soon. Or stop wanting to slash the unknown invisible entity responsible in half.

For a minute, the troll sways a bit back and forth in front of the elevator doors, vaguely matching Dave’s nervous shuffling. They both look like gigantic adorable dorks. Well, one tall and lanky, and one tiny.

Karkat considers the blond's idea, the thought of being… sleeping? with Dave tonight fills him with warmth and longing, not of the physical kind, but also maybe worryingly a little bit of the physical kind, so that’s… polarizing. Fucking hell he wants to say yes though.

“That sounds… really fucking nice, Dave, but I don’t want to put you in a spot where you’re uncomfortable, or-” he pulls one of the curls over his ear anxiously, “feel pressured or some shit like that.”

The short troll approaches the human once more, to rest his chin on Dave’s chest before looking up at him with bright eyes and a smile.

“…no matter how much I enjoy your company and your rambling mouth and your dumb jokes and I don’t want to cut this night short at all.”

* * *

There’s only so much a guy can process when his heart is still racing from making out with a cute troll in a planetarium, but Dave manages to parse out Karkat’s concern and some roundabout compliments about him, so he shoots him a lopsided smirk and carefully puts his arms around him.

It still feels weird, but not in a bad way. Just in the way you have to reprogram a lifetime of straight bullshit coding into your psyche to accept the naturality of squeezing the shit out of your--

Uh. Crush?

Dave chuckles nervously at that thought, but schools himself into neutrality again not to alarm Karkat. “Nah, it’s fine. But I’m glad to hear you are properly and thoroughly charmed by my smooth ways,” the blond drawls in a purposely deadpan tone. “It’s hard being rad. It’s hard, and nobody understands.”

Then, the elevator arrives, blissfully empty. They get in, still in close proximity. Dave checks the time on his cellphone screen.

“Damn, how did time fly by so fast? It’s like Chronos decided to make a homemade slide with water and soap out of that one staircase in Mario 64 and fifteen minutes in he’s zooming to his infinite doom…only I guess it goes on forever downwards instead of upwards?” He winces. “Didn’t think this one through.” Not that he does with all the others, either.

“Anyway, I’d love to add ‘movie night’ to the date program but sadly I have to pay my dues to capitalism tomorrow yet again and the last time I clocked in without enough sleep I mixed up ‘Bon Bon’ with ‘Pon Pon Pon’. Pretty interesting remix, but everyone was pretty disoriented, even if the party animals still twerked to it regardless.”

That was a sight to behold. He should find the videos they made of that for promo sometime.

Which gives him an idea. “Hey, uh, I don’t know if you’re into this, but,” Dave shrugs, “you could come see me mix tomorrow night and we can hang out afterwards, if you want. This club’s pretty nice, has some quieter areas, I dunno.”

* * *

It’s perfectly rational to get pissed at an elevator when it makes you dislodge from the nice warm embrace of your date’s arms, shut your stinking protein chute. In they go, he guesses.

“Do you ever think any of them through?” Karkat snorts as he shakes his head, amused at Dave’s time-based rant. He… could get used to that? It makes him wanna giggle, kiss him quiet, listen forever with a soft expression, and low-key smother him with a pillow. Perfect combo, 100% human boyfriend material.

And he’s already asking him out for the following day. In retrospect, Karkat wishes he’d been the one to jump on that one, seeing as how Dave made the effort to reach out to him for tonight’s extra thoughtful date, but… that doesn’t stop it from making him warm up and squirm inside.

“A bunch of drunk hipsters, listening to loud noise, and gross douchebags hitting on you all the time? Sounds like heaven.” Karkat teases with a lop-sided smirk and a raised eyebrow. In reality, Dave motherfucking Strider is a coolkid who mixes at clubs, and that’s a little intimidating for a little angry bookish nerd. Which at the end of the day only makes it all the more delicious to watch him bashfully fumble around his invitation, especially after displaying so much cocky chatbox swagger. The sexy dork.

Karkat wonders what the hell _Bon Bon_ is and resolves to look it up later by the way.

“…but I do want to hear your music. That actually sounds pretty nice. Sign me up, it’s a date.” Karkat’s eyes roll pensively. “Our third date?” He looks up at Dave playfully with a fangy smile, and can’t help but scooch just that tiny bit closer.

...

What the _fuck_ is this lanky blond doing to his inhibitions and his thinkpan?!

* * *

“That’s a state secret,” Dave rebuts casually, pulling on a lazy smile. Karkat’s laugh is cute as hell.

He leans back on the elevator wall and raises his hands to illustrate his upcoming rant with gestures. “See that’s the whole roguish charm of club nightlife, Karkat. You wouldn’t give it the time of day if it holla’d you on the street, but if framed under a very specific stroboscopic LED light, you crumble to its siren song and wake up the next morning broke, remorseful and potentially pregnant with a lingering feeling of abandonment.”

…Wait, that’s not very appealing. Dave shrugs, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Still nice to do it once in your life, tho. You can also just chill by the lounge and skip the whole getting absolutely fucking sloshed part, I guess, there’s no lit police or anything to confiscate your VIP pass while you’re chugging down a margarita with a paper umbrella.” He pauses for a fraction of a second, pondering. “Or an olive. I always get the ornamental crap mixed up.”

“But if it’s not your jam, I can just, y’know, show my mixes sometime. The endgame here is not having you hassled by some plastered sleazebag while I work so-- wait, really?” Dave blinks down at the troll. “Oh. Sweet then. I’ll set up a cheesy playlist that spells out your name with every initial letter or something so you’ll cream your pants at my vast knowledge of songs that start with ‘K’ and ‘A’.”

…He’s not exactly counting, but Dave is pretty sure this is at least the second time he’s mentioning pantscum in one single fucking night. King of romance. It’s him. Dave Strider is the king of romance, everyone else go home.

Karkat draws closer and the blond tenses up in anticipation. Expectation. Antipectation. He unconsciously leans a little closer, even if his mouth drags down to whine. “Aw c’mon, are we really keeping that second rate reality show date blowout shitfest as our first official date? Can’t we scrap that and start counting from this one? How are we to explain that to our children, Karkat, your mom and dad met because-- ok fuck no there isn’t a mom in this case I guess, unless you want to-- nevermind, that’s stupid, also I’m not sure you, we, it was just--”

Yep, he’s completely lost track of the original purpose of his speech. Alright, just toss it and start over. Dave takes a deep breath, cheeks burning from his dumb wordflood.

“Seriously though, you don’t have to if you don’t wanna, we’ll just think of something quieter to do, like I dunno, read in a library or something. And by that I mean you read and I keep reading random bits of text over your shoulder and making you sick haikus to the tune of whatever bubblegum commercial jingle is in my head at the moment until the librarian kicks us out and you lose your nerd membership card so you have to nerd somewhere elsmmph--”

Dave’s fanfic is abruptly cut short because Karkat’s sweet licorice lips are on him again and that is also so very fucking acceptable, so he closes his eyes, tips his head and draws his hands up to cup his troll date’s face and kiss him back enthusiastically.

* * *

With that overflowing cascade of word vomit, it becomes hard to register the keynotes buried in Dave’s diatribe. Something about mastication rubber songs and waking up pregnant in the morning, or whatever he said. It’s ridiculously endearing, this pathologically digressive, perplexingly charming nervous boy, but enough is enough. Karkat could already write a non-fiction book with the psychological analysis of the rants Dave’s spouted out tonight alone, so, as much as it is goddamn adorable and his frantic hand gestures don’t hurt the cute flustered boy image one bit, it is most definitely time for some silence, and the fastest and most self-indulgent way is kissing that hot (mess of a) mouth.

Not that Dave seems very bothered by it, if the way their tongues meet hungrily in perfect sync is anything to go by. Or the little groans into each other’s mouths. Karkat’s fingers find themselves drawn to Dave’s hair, carding needily til his claws are massaging the blond’s scalp. Their bodies stick to each other like magnets, like they need to steal each other’s heat to survive. Like two people lost in a blizzard in the middle of the frostseason, forced to stick close to survive in the harshest cold, and in the chilling dark of the night they need to share a coonbag and preserve their body heat by getti-

Karkat finally pulls back with a tiny wet smack, just as the doors of the elevator open, a little extra flushed than he would be on average, not that Dave needs to know that or why.

“Behave or I _will_ give you a thousand word limit for our next date, I swear to gods,” the troll fake-scolds merrily. “And yes, I’m up for it, idiot. I want to see you in your essence.” His eyebrow rises a little impudently. “But that playlist bearing my name better be fucking flawless!” he snorts as they come out and head for the lobby.

“…and yeah. You’re right. We’ll ignore the first date, it’ll be _date zero_. So that will be our second, instead,” Karkat manages to admit, feeling warm and happy inside, but a little peeved because _you know what they say about the third date_. His eyes dart up to the blond walking by him and he can’t help but squeeze his slender fingers affectionately, however.

“Amazing first date though.”

* * *

When their mouths disconnect, Dave lags behind for a few moments, his cognitive system still processing the sensations flooding him from the kiss. Wait, did the elevator crash? How the fuck did they get down here so f-- oh ok yeah, that tracks.

“Uh-- cool, dope, sweet. I’ll serenade your ass with mad scratches and animal samples, wait and see,” he grins, stepping out as well.

Despite their blatant fidgeting, obvious blush and overall conspicuity, Dave keeps holding on to Karkat’s hand as he stiffly strolls past the reception desk and pointedly ignores the woman behind it.

“Did you manage to do what you needed in the lab, lovebirds?” The receptionist’s voice pipes up and Dave nearly jumps in the air, turning to her with his hand in the cookie jar. She points at a monitor on her side of the desk, displaying a digital view of the elevator. The blond’s whole body burns in embarrassment. “I assume everything will be in order when we open tomorrow, yes? No unpleasant surprises?”

“Y-yes, I mean no…” he stutters, then adds, after a moment of contemplation, “…ma’am.”

She snorts and just dismisses them with a wave, which Dave latches on to as an excuse to quickly drag Karkat into the next elevator and back to the garage.

“So this just slingshot me back to high school for a sec. Great TBT, 10/10 would recommend,” he babbles on nervously. “Thank fuck there weren’t any jocks or cheerleaders, though, that would’ve made it at least sixty-three times worse. Uh,” Dave scratches his nape. “Sorry about earlier, by the way. I hadn’t planned on talking to anyone else during our date today so I just said you were my friend because that was the option less likely to end in the complete wilting of my banging plan. As in good, not as in-- maybe this is when I change the subject. Anyway,” he leans on the metal bar, but they’re almost on the car floor, “what’s the rating for today’s date? Would you come again and rec it to your friends? No, shit, that sounded wrong, would you uhhhh consume-- yeah that’s not good either, would you…”

He goes on, mumbling to himself, head ducked down and hand lifted before his mouth in consideration, ignoring even the ping of the elevator door opening on their garage floor.

* * *

During the regrettable interaction, Karkat shoots an unimpressed _mind your own business_ look at the receptionist, that soon morphs into _but thanks for not being much of a dick about it, I guess._ He has really expressive eyes, ok.

He would have added an _and don’t be gross, we wouldn’t have done it in there_ overtone as well, but when the idea came into his mind and suddenly it didn’t seem so far-fetched, he squirmed internally and decided to let it go.

...

Dave’s hand, clutched around his all throughout, feels like the best promise.

Snorting softly with fondness at the unending babbling on their way down to the scuttlebuggy lot, Karkat decides he should at some point actually _time Dave_ , to see how long it would take him to destroy his pretend thousand-word limit challenge. The troll’s current bet with himself is _under a minute._

Dave finally pipes down for about a second, when they’re coming out of the second elevator, giving Karkat a chance to chime in. “Don’t worry about it, Dave,” the troll chuckles merrily, swinging their interlaced hands in the air slightly. “What would you have told them we are, anyway?” Karkat quirks his eyebrow with sass. “Because I don’t think _this is my date with whom I had a kind of rocky start with, but we’ve been having a very enjoyable night together so far and things are looking up, especially after we do some surreptitious romantic stargazing up in your university laboratory block, so we’ll see what happens_ would have been very appropriate.” He laughs a little breathlessly, and not just from spouting his own long-winded rant.

“It’s only our first date, after all.” They’ve arrived by Dave’s pickup now, and Karkat leans casually against it. “Which I rate as… perfect, Dave. It was perfect.” He smiles up at him, warm and candid.

“What’s _your_ review of the night?” he grins, watching the lovable bumbling human through his eyelashes.

* * *

Karkat’s voice eventually snaps Dave out of his spiral of nonsense and he looks up to be dragged out of the elevator and towards his pick-up. It feels kind of weird, and he belatedly realizes it’s because he hadn’t expected to get this far.

Oh shit. What now?

“Yeah, ok, fair,” he concedes, reaching into his pocket to get his keys before tossing his things into the back of the truck. “…Although that kinda sounds like this absurd title of a movie I watched with Jade once.” Some long ass title that was. Come to think of it, the whole cast was comprised of trolls. Is that a pop culture reference for them, he wonders.

Before getting in, he walks up to Karkat, hands in his pockets, casual slouch, looking smoother than a marble. Yeah that’s a good analogy. “Sweet. Make sure you remember it damn well in the future, maybe take a picture, steal a souvenir — don’t do that —, write in your diary in outrageous red or some vintage color like mahogany so you can sell it when you’re a famous writer way overpriced because the color Means Something about your state of mind and you specifically bought it from Vietnam because the plant only grows in a Vietnamese dwarf forest and has to be watered with tears of a butterfly or something so it’s not a product, it’s an _aesthetic experience_ ,” Dave rocks his body on the balls of his heels. “Sorry, you were saying...?”

“Oh yeah, hm, let’s see. Well chef first of all that is one hella fine presentation you’ve got there, it’s cute as fuck and gives off the clear message of ‘I’m a sweet ass cupcake, the kind that makes you want to eat a whole pizza afterwards just to remember the taste of sodium’.” _Nailed It._ No, seriously, that’s where he learned all that. “All the elements are well balanced, the flavor is dense and rich and makes your gums get hooked on it like a billionaire on cocaine but less socially unserviceable. Overall, nothing fell apart, ripped, broke, disintegrated, caught on fire or outright exploded, so I’d say this is a motherfucking success,” Dave grins.

His smile drops around the edges. “…Though I guess there’s still the ride home, night is young.”

“Nevertheless, I’d give five stars and kiss the cook.” The boy fiddles with his hands in his pockets sheepishly. “Which I already did, I suppose, heh.”

Still feeling the heat irradiating from his cheeks, Dave gazes down at Karkat. Oh shit, he thinks he’s gonna kiss him again. At this rate, they will just spend the night right there.

“Ready to go home?”


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you didn't notice the rating change: Explicit Warning for this chapter! Enjoy >;D

Yeah, there you go, _that was a minimum of ten thousand words right there_ , Karkat randomly calculates to distract himself from his flaring cheeks. The troll hides his progressively more heated up face into his hands to chuckle nervously. 

“I’m gonna go out on a limb and deduce you are pleased with tonight’s results, from- or actually DESPITE your colorful use of language, that somehow evolved into a culinary-themed rainbow.” Karkat finally emerges from the impenetrable prong shield to snort with equal parts amusement and disbelief. “Well, _super_. I should get one of those tacky novelty aprons, it will be my 12th Perigee’s Eve self-gift. But I better get some solid kisses every time I wear it to barbecue or whatever the hell.” 

His eyes widen even further than his usual amber-dinner-plate size when he notices the way Dave’s looking down at him, unsubtle even behind aviators. Karkat's hands freeze from his diatribe position and instinctively land on the Strider’s chest. 

“Maybe it should be official, Dave.” The little alien quips before he leans up to steal (although by now he’s pretty sure it’s more consensual borrowing) one last kiss from Dave's soft lips, open-mouthed and passionate, but brief. _A goodnight kiss_. Or so Karkat thinks.

One more moment of smiling sheepishly at the tall blond, and Karkat is nodding and regrettably letting go of Dave to get into the truck. He slides into his seat sort of shaky, trying to compose himself, cheeks still warm with feeling and thoughts and- things. Kissing Dave is great for eloquence and clarity, wow. _Get a fucking grip, Vantas_. It doesn’t help that- there’s- something’s still rattling around his head, but no, there's no way- Dave wouldn't- um. It'd be stupid to assume that. It's decided. It's ridiculous.

Too bad he's opening his big fat maw before he can even catch himself doing it.

"Dave did you-" Karkat looks up to the side at his drop-dead gorgeous driver, blinking in confusion.

"Di-did you call me... _cute_?!"

* * *

Dave’s mind helpfully and immediately conjures a flash of an image of Karkat in an apron and his heart does two backflips and a single-axis handstand with a wave. It doesn’t help that the way Karkat pronounces _official_ sounds downright pornographic, but maybe it’s just the endorphins from a successful date coming to an end. He put a lot of fucking effort into this, after all.

When the blond blinks back to the present, the troll’s already left him to his daydreams to hop onto the passenger seat. Dave snaps out of it and slides into the driver’s seat, shutting the door and keying the ignition.

As he smoothly throws his arm on the back of Karkat’s seat – to turn his body and look at the rear, of course –, he notices the boy’s flustered expression and registers his question.

Then he _really_ registers his question and has a hard time keeping a straight face.

“Uh, yeah? I mean,” Dave scrunches his eyebrows together, as if confused by Karkat’s doubt. “These are the cold hard facts, Karkat. Or something less morbid.”

They maneuver out of the parking spot and towards the exit of the building. “I’m not keeping count but haven’t I called you like fifty different categories of variations for that – most of which are nsfw btw – before, even before we met in person?”

* * *

“Exactly. Um, I mean-” Wow, that shit is deeply-ingrained. There was no chance one date, even if incredibly (suspiciously?) perfect was gonna erase all his self-image headcanons in his thinkpan. “Not that I thought you’d immediately be turned off when you saw me. Which I guess happened anyway but- never mind because that had nothing to do with this. I think?” Karkat's eyes dart back and forth while he ridiculously considers it for a fraction of a second. 

“But yeah, of course you did. And. It’s really cute.” Slightly sweaty grey hands rub together nervously as the troll turns his eyes down (aren’t his old boots so goddamn fascinating) and blushes soft pink. “But I don’t know Dave, isn’t that just like… sweet talk.” Contrary to what he’s saying, his mouth splits into a fond lopsided smile. “Something you tell the other person to make them. Feel nice, or at ease.” 

His gaze finally shifts from the most amazing floor mats in the world, grazing back up Dave’s body, that may or may not be what makes him stutter a little. “N-not you! Cause you’re so- fuck, um. My fucking point is, I didn’t take it as much more than… lovable things that someone _smooth_ might say.” Karkat snorts softly and grins for an instant at the blond, before turning his sight back ahead. 

The brightly-lit night speeds past the window and he settles against it, lets himself relax just watching the city go by, content and placid.

“Why would I.”

* * *

Oh wow yeah the first date... Yeesh. Dave grimaces. Let's not think about that.

He navigates the streets in vague recollection of the way back to Karkat's area, piecing together his counter-argument. His smooth act is not on his side here, but maybe he can be sincere for half a moment. "Well yeah, sure, but-- wait, I mean--" The blond clears his throat, gesticulating abstractly with his free hand.

"Everyone likes compliments, right?" The traffic lights reflect on his shades, framing his face as he twists it into a thoughtful frown. "And even if it's smooth as fuck talking and I'm mad proficient at language and all that jazz, doesn't mean it's any less true, y'know." Dave seizes the break from the red light to look up over his shades at Karkat, a warm quality to his crimson gaze.

The traffic moves and he looks ahead again, focusing. "In fact," and he should have left it at that, "I probably wouldn't have freaked out so much if you weren't such a fucking knockout, dude. Maybe if I hadn't been grabbed by the balls like a cat at the vet I would've just kept thinking you're a cool bro and called it a day, gone back to my five on one and who knows, perhaps sought consolation in yet another weird dating website."

It takes a few seconds for the several (terrible) implications of that word vomit to sink in, but when they do, Dave flushes in embarrassment for the millionth time today. He's surprised Karkat hasn't jumped out the window yet. "Ok any chance you can ignore like half of what I said and just believe me when I say I like your face and your mouth and--" A brief flashback of Karkat's rear in those illegally fitting pants has him recalculating his route. "E-everything else."

After he blinks himself into a semblance of calm, Dave glances at Karkat in apprehension and gets a thorough honk from a nearby speeding motorcycle. "Wh-- hey, this... You don't mean this is like, _news_ to you, right? Please say no."

* * *

Dave says more or less what Karkat imagined he might say, with the added breath-hitch of the blond looking seductively at him over the rim of his shades… until he makes the wildest affirmation. That he’d freaked out _because_ of finding the troll attractive. The look of utter shock on Karkat’s face is priceless, he couldn’t look more aghast if the blond had claimed to be a wriggler murdered reincarnated from the ghost of human Elvis who stuffs hot peppers in his wastechute for fun. He simply gawks at Dave in disbelief for a few long seconds.

Fortunately, the fact that the blond is busy driving prevents him from noticing the fully flabbergasted look on Karkat's face. It’ll take some time, reassurance and few sessions of bashing his own thinkpan against something hard to absorb this key information.

"News to me," Karkat simply parrots back. "...well." The troll allows himself to feel a little ashamed for a couple seconds, wondering what level of explicit honesty is the right one here. He-

He wouldn't want to ruin a wonderful night.

"Maybe I should work on internalizing that more." He finally looks back up at Dave with a warm spark in his big alien eyes. The blond is right about done parking by the curb in front of Karkat's place. "I promise," Karkat adds, unsure of why the sudden desperate need for reassuring him. Maybe it's the gut-wrenching way the word _please_ came out from in between Dave's lips.

As soon as the truck comes to a complete stop, Karkat unbuckles his seatbelt and swivels to face his handsome driver with a leg up on the seat. 

"Dave." The troll nervously runs his claws through his dark curls for a second before finding his metaphorical footing. "It's been a pretty fucking perfect night. You made me feel really comfortable, so you have nothing to worry about. I have literally no complaints, and I always have complaints." He chuckles softly as his hand comes up to rest on Dave's shoulder with the utmost ease. "I meant it when I said _perfect_."

And then (fuck everything screaming _no_ in his head), Karkat lets himself say exactly what he wants to say.

“I hope I get to thank you _properly_ , soon. And thoroughly.” His finger traces a small circle on Dave’s arm.

Karkat smiles invitingly, and- yep. If there’s a look that could melt through steel, it’s the one the troll dedicates his date without the slightest shadow of restraint.

Hot and heavy is just _honesty_ at the moment, after all.

* * *

“Sweet,” Dave says, pulling the lever brake. He doesn’t get much time to panic about what to do next, however, because Karkat’s shifting and opening his mouth to say something, thankfully. God he’s gorgeous, messing up his hair like that.

His heart skips a beat and falls out of rhythm completely when the troll’s hand meets his body. It’s a grounding gesture, something to anchor the blond to the present and remind him that this is all very real and very good and very _okay,_ unlike what he’s come up with in his head in the past. No cops have busted into their date and arrested them for gay crimes or anything. They’re just… two dudes in a car, being awkward and cheesy as fuck.

Just Karkat and Dave.

…yeah, it’ll probably only really sink in later.

Strider’s mind is lulled into a false sense of security right before it is thrown _deep_ into the gutter because of Karkat’s… well, everything. His voice, his face, his touches, his fucking feasting on Dave through his eyes, jesus st christ.

Oh _hell_ no, his pants feel hot, along with virtually every other article of clothing currently enveloping his body. He’s gonna report this assault to the police and get a warrant to search Karkat’s body for evidence, because that is how forensics and investigations work.

Dave squirms discreetly in his seat, looking away behind his shades. “Yeah, bet on it, I’m gonna claim that gratitude like a grandma snags bingo prize on end of year gatherings in asylums.” A totally romantic mental image, for sure.

If only he could stop at that. “Feel free to thank-- thank me six ways to Sunday, anytime--”

His voice falters, so Dave finally snaps his mouth shut, takes a deep breath, turns off the engine and turns to face Karkat. He hesitates for a second, but doubles dares himself through it and ultimately takes off his glasses. It’s dark now anyway.

“Um, yeah. Me too, is what I meant to say in the end.” And then, because it seems only right, the blond reaches up to cup the troll’s face and leans in to initiate a slow, simmering kiss.

* * *

Son of a bitch, he really _is in love with Dave_ , it’s blaring alarms in the back of Karkat’s mind as he does his best to pay his undivided attention to the blond’s new adorable spurt of flustering and stuttering. It’s still unbearably goddamn sweet, and alluring, and Karkat doesn’t wanna go upstairs and home alone, and _holy fuck_ those pixie eyes come into play once again to knock him down.

In his emotional overload, Karkat almost misses that Dave’s answer is _me too_. And then Dave’s kissing him sensual and passionate, so much so that it almost _burns_ , and good gods, Karkat wants those fucking blisters so bad. 

It doesn’t have to make sense when you get to have that delicious tongue curl around yours. Making sense can go fuck itself sideways with a human desert barbed plant.

Karkat’s hand lands over the one on his cheek, fingers interlocking while the troll reciprocates the kiss avidly. Another hand flies up and rakes through blond hair somewhat needily (ok, _very_ needily) and before he’s had the instant for the energy to consider to try and calm the fuck down a little, Karkat’s leg magically slips over Dave’s lap and the little troll somehow ends up straddling him. Go figure. He's too busy to solve the mystery though, as the troll keeps himself quite preoccupied with devouring Dave’s mouth, slow and delicate but hungrily.

His bloodpusher hitches and then jumpstarts to overclocking, it’s so frantic, delirious and dizzying, that Karkat sees absolutely no downside to sitting on Dave’s lap with their groins flush together. Staying like this in a truck in the middle of the street all night is perfectly sound horny logic.

* * *

If everything else fails and crumbles in life, the one certainty Dave Strider will carry to his grave is that kissing Karkat Supernova Vantas is a goddamn decimating cosmic phenomenon.

The smooching gets steamy enough that undesired publicity is the last thing on his mind at the moment, so Dave just closes his eyes and allows himself to get lost in the holy fucking shit Karkat is mounting him hell fucking--

\--yes??? Probably??? It feels good, his hands hesitate dumbly, stuttering in the air for a few seconds before landing on Karkat’s waist and _motherfuck_ he’s tiny. How can a being even be this small and horny? No pun intended.

Which reminds him, in his disoriented, heat-addled brain, of the troll’s actual horns. Shit, he’s really tapping an alien. Sort of. Not yet. Oh god.

Dave whimpers into the kiss, slowly wrapping his arms around him to pull his date closer. Karkat’s body is so fucking hot and _on him_ , over him, rubbing against him, jesus christ on a tightrope with a monkey on his shoulder Dave is going to overheat, his body temperature rising in approximately 209.6% in five seconds from the way Karkat’s grabbing his hair and pulling and tongue-tying with him like he’s water in the desert.

Never does it occur to him to stop because they’re in a semi-public place, even if the veil of the night shields them from plain view somewhat.

The blond’s arms are locked tight around the troll, pulling him as close as physically possible as he sinks back onto the car seat, matching the strokes of Karkat’s lips.

* * *

Karkat can’t think anymore. And it’s _bliss_.

Melting into Dave’s smoldering mouth is all he ever wants to do again… except Dave’s sexy ass hands go to his waist and make him shudder, his arms bring their bodies close, tight, grinding against each other and making Karkat mewl into the human’s mouth. That sharp mouth he’s starting to fantasize about, where else it could travel, how it’d feel running over his burning hot grey skin, lavishing attention on other parts of his body. Something stirs inside of Karkat.

…quite literally.

“Dave… fuck~” A nanosecond later Karkat catches the blond’s lips again, sucking and nibbling needily. “I- uhn-” 

Karkat Vantas seems to have lost the ability to form cogent sentences, so he buries his obviously candy apple red face in Dave’s neck, in an unfocused mix of need to inhale the Strider’s heavenly scent, feel the heat of his soft velvety human skin, and desperately wanting to simmer down, breathe normally again and regain the ability to _think_.

“You’re so fucking hot, Dave.” Karkat practically whines in his ear.

* * *

Somewhere between the two fronts seats lies an abandoned pair of aviator-style sunglasses, carelessly dropped from its otherwise preoccupied owner’s hand in his aforementioned addressing of important business.

Business being an enthusiastic little mutant-blooded troll currently busying his mouth, hands, lap and — alarmingly enough — dick.

Not that Dave is presently lucid or willing enough to stop any of that from happening. Nah, if they’re in a cheap horror flick as the one couple that obliviously makes out into their death because they didn’t see a seven feet tall creep standing beside the driver’s window, then so be it. It’s been real, my dudes.

It’s Karkat’s breathy voice that drags his mind ricocheting back into his skull. His mouth protests the outrageous distance from the troll’s tongue, but his lungs are grateful for the brief respite. It really felt like he would overheat over there for a s--

Wait, heat? Dave flushes, registering Karkat’s words.

I mean, yeah, okay, the blond knows what he looks like. It’s the Strider genes, he’d conspired with Dirk, a second before being graced with a judgmental raise of an eyebrow, almost in slow motion, from his older sister. He’d been forced to add the Lalondes weren’t so bad, either, to which Rose actually smacked his shoulder, even if there was the ghost of a genuine smile on her lips.

Anyway, bottom line is, he’s… fine enough, he supposes, but the way Karkat says it almost like religion, breathing hard on his lap, makes his heart throb with more than just arousal. Oh no nevermind, that’s some other part of his body throbbing.

“Thanks,” he manages, just for the sake of filling the silence. And because he’s Dave, that isn’t enough. “I-- shit, Karkat, you--”

His sentence is cut short by an unmistakably aroused groan when the human hugs him tightly and presses his now overly noticeable erection into Karkat’s crotch. The blond blushes and pulls back, biting his lip and accidentally darting his gaze up at the troll. 

“Fuck, I’m so sorry, I, uh, hm, you--” After forcing his muscles to chill for two fucking seconds, Dave lets out a nervous laugh. “It’s just that, you too. Shit. Sorry.” His grip loosens on his waist, allowing Karkat room to pull away if he so desires.

* * *

"Dave. I would eat you up right now." Karkat snorts softly, his voice low and breathy, and a few seconds pass before he registers his own utterance and his eyes, with their hazy look and dilated pupils, widen slightly in alarm.

On the other hand, Dave just jabbed his erection against the troll's groin and moaned sensually. So. Yeah. And fuck yes, obviously Karkat knows what as human dick is. He might not really have been close and intimate with one, but-

There's been. Research done.

_Before Dave,_ thank you very fucking much. Living in a planet full of humans, no one should be blamed for having some curiosity about the intricacies of xenocompatibility. 

Plus they look like they'd be... interesting to experiment with. Sue him.

Wait, what's happening? What was going on before he dipped down to kiss and nibble on Dave's neck with that train of thought?

Right. Dangerous arousal.

"My point is: don't you fucking apologize to me." Karkat snickers in the blond's ear, right after giving it a playful bite. "But... as much as I want to ride your goddamn lap, Dave, I need to know what you want me to do right now. Because-" This time, Karkat feels his bulge physically, stirring inside him and threatening to unsheathe. 

"Th-things are happening, and-" a whimper interrupts his words. "I- won't be able to control it properly- mph! ...much longer."

The horny as fuck troll nails Dave down with a fierce look, a look that screams _touch me right now or put me out of my misery._

* * *

Dave's mind has to work overtime to exact basic linguistic functions properly at the moment, his current elementary response stuck on pants and poorly restrained groans. Still, there is a very eager troll on his very eager dick saying very eager stuff and he has to find a way to twist a reply out of his mouth. 

"Control uh, what, exactly?" The blond stutters, face flushed as he watches Karkat squirm on his lap and _oh my god it's moving_. There is something actually, veritably, certifiably sentient lurking in Karkat's pants. Dave's grateful the troll can't hear those thoughts.

He can't deny he's nervous as hell, but he supposes weirder things have happened. Earth receiving wave after wave of alien refugees, for one. Autonomic wobbly limbs should be old fucking news by now.

So maybe it could be that Dave is in truth... Excited? Maybe, but his senses are far too busy being gang-banged by Karkat's hot touches and he can't find the time to focus enough to decide. His lips close around a patch of skin on his ashen skin.  


* * *

So here's the thing with that. Um.

That was mostly the _tip_.

As much as Karkat tried to clamp down on the entrance of his sheath, and _boy was he trying_ , things were well on their way and maybe the top third of his tentabulge was already managing to wiggle out.

But nothing like when the sensitive live-wire of a troll feels Dave's mouth suckling on his neck, not to mention all his remaining resistance completely giving out. 

The struggle is over with a big telling _shlick_ and, even more relevantly, with a deep gasping moan of both pleasure and relief when his bulge finally manages to fully slip out of his body and roam free, a sound that Karkat instinctively tries to hide by pressing his face deep into Dave's shoulder, but in reality must have been the most obscenely filthy noise that's ever loudly burst out of him. Shit shit _shit._

He just fully unsheathed _right on Dave's lap._

"Ah, ffuck-" Karkat hides a little longer against Dave's warm body, face a mortified candy apple red and breathing heavily, before he pulls back to look directly into Dave's alluringly hazy eyes.

...

"...you think erections are conspicuous." A second longer of holding a serious face is all he achieves before he barks out a laugh, hiding his heated face in his palms momentarily, then resting his forehead against Dave's trying to even out his breathing.

Meanwhile, a very curious, very horny and frustrated member does its best, even through the barrier of Karkat's pants, to reach out and get intimate with Dave's alien tool. He must definitely feel it, curling around and questing. _Fuck._

Karkat pulls back a little and lets his expression drop so Dave knows _he means business._

"Do you want to... stop?" A traitorous reflex swallow makes his Adam's apple bob visibly. Why do trolls have Adam's apples even.

"I... I don't want to freak you out." Karkat's clawed fingers come to cup Dave's face as he observes his reaction with apprehension.

* * *

Whatever Karkat has to say on the matter goes right over Dave's head, given that his eyes are currently crosshaired on the troll's crotch. It's possibly not the most polite thing to do, since he's pretty sure this could be considered _ogling_ , but holy shit. It's actually moving, he can see Karkat's pants tent and the lump protrude in alternating places.

Ok, it's not that he isn't listening, but Dave just can't ignore the goddamn tentacle in the room. His gaze snaps up again momentarily, if only to reassure Karkat, who seems beyond himself in shame and arousal. A yummy fucking look, if you ask Dave.

"No, I-- it's cool, don't worry about it. It's just..." He's still mulling over his date's question when his traitorous eyes trail down again to Karkat's uhhhhh bulge? in his pants.

For a moment, he watches the subtle movement, entranced. It's... not repulsive or anything. If anything, he's intrigued. Fueled by his newfound feeling, Dave Strider does the most sensible thing in this situation.

He touches Karkat’s dicktacle over his pants.

I mean. It was just-- _right there_ , all... bulging and shit. He barely had the time to process his own move, just cupping the front of Karkat's pants with some pressure and feeling his whole body burn when the spot seeps warmth into his hand.

"Holy shit," he breathes, eloquently, not realizing what a fucking creep he's being.

* * *

OKAY YEAH GOOD DAVE'S NOT FREAKED OUT, THAT SEEMS INCOMPATIBLE WITH FONDLING HIS- his-

"Uhn~" Karkat slumps forward in his arms, the stimulation of Dave's hand on him shooting a bolt of pleasure all down and _into_ his body. His nook positively quivers with want, holy shit. "Fffuck..." The out-of-his-mind turned-on troll is only barely aware of whining practically in the blonde's soft ear. His body trembles, as much from the contact as from the pure shock of realization that _Dave Strider's feeling him up_.

Th-they should stop, Karkat should stop him and say something, like _let's go upstairs real quick and fuck each other like horny carrotbeasts_ , maybe Kanaya won't be there, if Kanaya's there they'll kick her out to the hallway, that's definitely good moirail etiquette for all Dave knows. 

But he knows he can't, no matter how deliciously his bulge is trying and failing to _commune_ with Dave's warm hand. That's not what they agreed on and Karkat's not willing to breach that, so he contents himself with rocking into Dave's palm a bit while he snakes his own hand into the tight space in between them to feel, stroke that very much _rock-hard_ erection. And... goddamn. _Close and intimate time with human dick_ seems less far-fetched by the nanosecond.

Holding on to it for dear _something_ , Karkat says the only thing he feels he can say right now. In a breathy, lustful, practically begging voice right against the blond's silky, increasingly hot neck.

"Dave..."

...

Ok. With one extra addendum. 

"...maybe they should _meet_."

After catching the Strider's lips teasingly for a brief instant, the flushed-pink troll leans back only enough to shoot him a dangerously heated look.

Hey, it's not his fault that he felt it positively _twitch_ in his hand.

* * *

It’s Karkat’s fucking _filthy_ , delicious sounds that yank Dave back into awareness. Oh my fucking god he just felt the dude up without asking.

Well, at least he doesn’t seem to be complaining. Nor calling the police. Is there such a thing as the troll police, or is it just the normal police? Maybe this is not the best of times to wonder about that.

Dave doesn’t even get much time to delve into xenolegality because there’s pressure over his boner and his throat is vibrating with a deep groan, foregoing shock completely in favor of channeling the neediness his body feels at the moment. _Shit_.

His hips jut up involuntarily, eyes squeezing shut as he bites his lip. Oh god fuck _fuck_ he shouldn’t be as affected by this as he is but jesus christ he’s _definitely_ gay as hell, or bisexual as hell or-- alright, not the time to dwell on that _either_.

“Karkat, f--yes,” Dave pants, out of breath, pulling the troll closer to rut against him. Karkat looks like a fucking painting in the shadow of the streetlights, flushed and horny and _thrashing_??? Wait--

Oh right, there’s the aggravating detail that they are _in the middle of the goddamn fucking street._

“Dude, we’re-- right in front of your house,” the blond says, unsure of his own point, even if he’s chasing the heat of Karkat’s blood all the way over to his collar, sucking over the patch of grey skin visible over his shirt.

* * *

_Yes_ turns out to be the most erotic word in existence. Not to be pushy, but Karkat makes it his personal goals to acquire a few more of those as soon as possible. Hopefully within the next minute or so.

In Dave's scuttlebuggy in the middle of the street. _Fuck it_. There's no way in hell he's about to take his hands off Dave for a single second, not even to check if Kanaya's home. There's no reason she shouldn't be there anyway. Because he had her stay home for this explicit goddamn reason, the lack of temptation to take Dave back home. BECAUSE HE'S A GODDAMN BLOODY IDIOT.

Whatever. Car. Who cares. Wow, the amount of fucks he gives about this right now is less than zero, somehow. Way below zero. It's goddamn fucking frigid down in there. Unlike his bulge, which feels like it is on goddamn. Fucking. Fire.

In a hurry, and with it being the only viable item around, Karkat leans over to grab his sweater, Dave's mouth sucking the hell out of his neck and all, to hang the piece of clothing from the roof handle on the passenger's side, which is also the side of the sidewalk. The other side can kiss his ass, it's not like anyone's gonna wander through the middle of the road or see them from the other side of the street in the dark. Also, that risk seems perfectly acceptable right now.

...his instincts might be taking over just a little bit.

In his defense, Dave's mouth is still nibbling and sucking all over his skin and leaving marks and it's positively dizzying.

"Holy shit, Dave-" Karkat gasps dripping with lust, his hands previously momentarily otherwise occupied, sliding down the human's chest to arrive back to his bulging crotch and swiftly unhook his fly open. No more delays, please and thank you. Dave's extra spicy panting and groaning combo with hot chili fries on the side heartily agrees.

Karkat’s fingers slide in. Soft, slow, but relentlessly slipping down Dave’s hardness. There’s precum on his fingertips almost instantly. “Oh, fff-” Karkat buries his face into the blond’s neck and manages to muffle some noises helplessly tumbling out of his own mouth.

A hail of sucks and nips lands non-stop on that sensitive pale skin, courtesy of Karkat’s mouth while he caresses Dave’s erection teasingly, careful with his claws. He’s also watching his fangs on Dave’s neck, although Karkat can’t help but let the sharp teeth rake over Dave’s carotid before marking him with a sucking bruise. So trusting. _So irrationally, unreasonably and illogically vulnerable._

That seems to stir something deep inside Karkat, not to mention his bulge that’s going haywire and sore inside its fabric cage. No more waiting.

“Dave.”

Karkat abandons his sensual neck torture to hold Dave’s face and tilt it back towards him. The troll himself is a mess of heavy breathing and twitching, but… the gaze that meets him is pure unabashed hunger. 

“Look at me. Ok?” The troll smiles warmly, his affected voice deep and gravelly.

Drinking up the look on Dave’s eyes, that hand that just released his flushed hard cock _fully_ regrettably lets go, if only to quickly deal with Karkat’s own pants. And in barely a couple seconds, he’s exhaling a relieved huff.

Karkat leans into Dave’s lips, languidly kissing him with a pleased rumble in his chest, keeping Dave occupied while his bulge uncoils out, dripping red and glistening, to almost immediately curl itself around the head of the Strider’s cock and tighten sweetly. Almost like it knows exactly where to go and what to do to drive Dave out of his fucking mind.

* * *

For a second, Dave has enough clarity of mind to consider asking Karkat to stop, but then there is a warm palm wrapping around his dick and he doesn’t know whether it feels different because it’s a guy or because it’s a troll or because it’s fucking Karkat and Dave’s so unbelievably fucking hot for him or maybe a combination of all of the above and then he’s gasping a strangled groan and tipping his head back. Fuck, it’s been a while, and they’re inside a car, goddamn. For sure this is the most debauched sex thing that has ever happened with a member of his family.

“Shit, Karkat, babe, that’s it, fffuck--” Dave rasps, eyes closed to focus on the feeling downtown for a while. He doesn’t want to freak out. More. Yet.

Which is pretty hard, since three weeks ago he was no-homoing around, flaunting his arguable heterosexuality and xenosociological ignorance and now he’s hard with an alien on his lap currently occupied with getting his hands on every part of his body simultaneously, apparently. Wait, would they be paws? Uhhh, prongs? Goddammit, he should’ve read up on this.

A particularly intense suckle on his neck rips a low whine out of him. Yeah, this is the steamiest fucking makeout he’s ever had.

When Karkat speaks up again, Dave painstakingly cranks his eyes open. One of his hands is absentmindedly clutching the smaller’s ass while the other is halfway up his back under his shirt. However the fuck did it get there, he wonders, then proceeds not to give a shit.

“Y-yeah?” A confused look flashes through his eyes for a moment before he notices the movement of Karkat’s hands and successfully ignores his command to look down at his crotch. “Wh-- mn…”

The blond catches onto the troll’s strategy and returns the kiss, heart thrumming in his ears from sheer adrenaline. By this point he’s so hard that his dick is a time bomb, or, for a far superior term, a cock clock dock block. Maybe a dick tock tick cock? Shit, he should write that down.

Except he feels something slick and _burning_ snake around his dick and outright _jumps_ in his seat. “ _Holy f--!_ ”

It’s physically impossible for him not to pull back to stare and wow. It’s-- He can’t say he’s never seen anything like it before, c’mon, he’s had his gross hentai phase, he’s only human.

Dave just never expected it to be so fucking _hot_. The friction over the sensitive flesh feels divine and, as he looks down and sees Karkat’s uhhh bulge? Yes? Yes. His bulge enveloping his shaft, squeezing it and oozing--

“Shit, Karkat, are you okay??” Dave asks breathlessly, holding the troll’s waist and looking back up at him. “I mean, is it-- is it normal to be so, uh,” he frowns, glancing back down. His dick twitches at the sight again, “…red?”

* * *

It takes Karkat a little bit to respond, because the word _babe_ , sensually groaned out by Dave, has left him open-mouthed and entranced, just gaping at the human melting to horny putty in his... grip.

"Wha-?" Eloquence be damned to shit right now. "Oh- oh!! Yeah, i- hng! 's fine." A particularly mischievous coil of his questing tentadick around Dave interrupts that sentence in the middle. "Look at my eyes, Dave. I'm red in places, it's fine." He should really be writing all this verbal poetry down.

"...I thought I told you not to _look_ though." Karkat smirks in disbelief and amused gentle chiding, though he puts that aside since the blond still looks a bit quizzical. But also very horny, so let's get this shit out of the way.

After hesitating half an instant the troll shimmies up his shirt on the side a bit, revealing one of his Very Red™️ grubscars. "See? It's just different tissue. Like your human nipples." 

The break for anatomical lessons is interrupted by his bulge, which was temporarily chilling and squeezing, then decides that it's _really into this human sex limb_ and starts snaking down, length tightening around Dave's erection and tip slithering south to explore the Land Beyond Cock, and stroke further over... whatever _that_ is, Karkat's currently way fucking busy to remember,moaning more and more frantically and arching into Dave's touch over his ass and the skin on his bare back.

"Fuck-" he gasps, deliciously fighting for air. "Here comes a bomb. Dave Strider, you feel really fucking good."  


* * *

Dave laughs breathlessly, half horny, two thirds nervous, one quarter curious, fuck math. “Tellin’ me not to look has a sure deal percent chance of makin’ me look at all times, Karkat. It’s sssssssshiiiit,” he pants, squeezing his eyes shut in pleasure, “science.”

He does open them again when he hears rustling in front of him, directing his gaze to where Karkat is signaling. Those are…

Huh. They do look a lot like scars. They’re a vibrant red and look like they’re… pulsing. It’s kinda gross, but also weirdly alluring. Before he can catch himself, Dave is reaching out to touch with his fingertips, running his rough palms up Karkat’s side and tracing them with his fingers. He brushes over the crimson patches with his thumb, feeling the texture under his touch.

His focus shatters into a billion horny pieces when Karkat’s bulge slithers south and Dave jolts once more. “Oh fuck oh shit god--,” the tendril fondles his winded-up balls, making him cry brokenly from arousal. It’s fucking embarrassing how hot and bothered he is from such little time being touched, but he’s dead certain he won’t last much longer.

So the blond pulls himself together, swallows his nervousness and brings his hand down to grab the troll’s-- hipster Jesus with a man bun at a Starbucks, it feels weird. I mean yeah, Karkat’s tentadick was getting close and intimate with his meatroddick so far, but, somehow, touching it is a whole different experience, one he had _not_ anticipated _at all_ to be having tonight.

Well, Dave is a rap god after all, which means he knows his way around improvisation.

“Fuck, Karkitten, I was right since the beginning,” he grins, flushed and slightly sweaty. “You’re smokin’ hot as fuck. I’m gonna get, haah, third-degree burns from bumping uglies with you.”

Okay, maybe not the most romantic thing to say ever, but look, Karkat, he’s thumbing the tip of your bulge, focus on that.

* * *

Every time Dave opens his mouth, Karkat loses is fucking mind a little more. Not from his babbling, although it has taken a much more sexual tone with the breathiness of his voice, the strangled moans he lets out, the gritted-teeth groaning, the gasps- yeah, from _that_.

Meanwhile, his slithering bulge is going to town on the yummiest, warmest and silkiest slidepole in existence.

"Fuck, Dave, so... _stiff_." Karkat's mouth hisses out that simple word like horny gospel, like the kinkiest, most delicious sounding image in the world, not really a mystery _why_ considering the squishy tentacle schlorping around in his lap, in high contrast with Dave's steel rod.

It must feel so fucking good _inside_.

"Dave-- **_ah!!_ ** " Karkat practically screams when that soft hand starts fondling the sensitive tip of his bulge. "Shit, mm~" He buries his face into the human's shoulder again, keening while trying to regain his bearings. Everything is fucking overstim heaven though, and that makes sanity _complicated_. Not to mention Dave's hand still stroking his torso and tender grubscars, which Karkat never even realized felt that good when touched (now he wants to mouth at Dave's perked up nipples, visible even through his shirt).

Not nearly enough focus at the moment, though.

"D-Dave." Karkat gasps with difficulty. "When we get fully naked I'm riding that dick all the way," he growls ferally, but soon flusters embarrassed as his own explicit words. Can't blame him tho, it's getting increasingly difficult to not jump deeper into the blond's lap and slam himself down on that ridiculously hot meat rod until he can feel Dave's orgasm deep inside of him.

Instead, he lets Dave play with the head of his twitching bulge while Karkat thrusts around his shaft, coiling and sliding up and down his length obscenely while, catching Dave's mouth once again, lets his desperate moans free against his tongue.

* * *

There’s some comfort in knowing that he’s not alone in his _delirium_ , Dave concludes seeing Karkat make the sexiest fucking sounds ever known to man and trollkind that he’s pretty sure could cure cancer on a higher frequency, which… now that he focuses on it, even if for less than five seconds, is coming along with a loud thrumming sound from Karkat’s ribcage or whatever’s the troll equivalent of that. It’s pretty freaky, but some elevated part of his mind suggests maybe he shouldn’t voice that specific comment right now.

A whine breaks through his flushed lips. If possible, the brunette’s words only inflate his dick _more_ because holy shit _yes_ , please, but, how? Well, if he’s saying it, it means he has the goods, right? Oh _f--_

Dave throws his head back, gritting his teeth around a strangled moan. Yep, he can feel the familiar tug that precedes the spunk canon explosion creep up his thighs so now is the time to focus and not look like a teenager who’s just creamed his pants within two minutes of making out. In his defense, it’s been _at least_ five. An improvement if you ask him.

“Shit, Karkat,” his voice is distorted with a sensual undertone Dave himself is not aware of as he rests his forehead against Karkat’s. “I’m close, god--”

The blond looks down, breathing hard from the kiss-fondle-freak out-groan multitasking, and hopes to whatever god exists or favors him most that Karkat’s macaroni works more or less like his when he squeezes it with more pressure, stroking it faster and a little more vigorously. He can’t help thinking that this shape sure looks way more anatomically friendly than a human dick, which brings some diplomatic questions back onto the table for further consideration.

Maybe it’s the unprompted and unexpectedly detailed mental image of the troll’s bulge slithering into his ass that does it, maybe it’s just the natural progression or arousal, but Dave curses loudly and hunches into Karkat as his orgasm overcomes him. Amidst his blank-out bliss, he doesn’t register the babbling of curses and interjections spilling from his mouth as his dick pulses strings of white over the troll’s tendril, pumped dry by the red limb around his shaft.

It’s fucking glorious. The Japanese pervs were onto something, man.

When he comes to, the first thing he does is look down to take in the view and _oh god this is hot_ slaps his common sense and Dave realizes he’s stopped stroking him. Oops.

* * *

One telling jerk of the blond's body and Karkat's sliding his pointy tongue against Dave's _trembling with moans_ one, drinking up his orgasm like it's fucking juice of life and he's half a nanosecond from dying. It feels close to it. It's intoxicating, it's nookchafing delicious. Seriously. He's rutting like a barkbeast in heat.

At some point Dave stops stroking him (probably the point when he squirts all over the both of them and the troll forgets _what breathing is_ ) and Karkat bites his own lip hard, his fangs might have drawn a prick of blood, but it's ok. It's so ok. It's a respite, and above everything else Karkat wants to see, to _watch_ Dave in an absolute trance.

In wide-eyed ecstasy just for him. Because of him. 

In return, Karkat stays open-mouthed, panting breathless, and in a state of transcended arousal. God, he can feel his wet nook clenching hungrily against his underwear.

"Atta boy," Karkat groans with another ravenous kiss, trying to bring himself under control. _Desperately_.

Maybe it's for the best, no matter how outrageously mortifying it is for his body. It's not exactly ideal for a troll to come inside his pants, on his date's lap, in a car, in the street, without a stack of fucking towels nearby.

...so close though.

_Fuckdammit_.

* * *

When Karkat relinquishes his hold over Dave’s mouth, he breathes exactly once before replying in a breathless chuckle: “Do I get a cookie and a pet or was the treat part of the trick? Actually, nevermind, don’t answer that.”

Despite (or as per demonstrated by) the joke, his face is flushed with thirty different brands of emotions, and they all converge into some shade of red to light up his freckles. His first interspecies gay jerkcircle (jerkline? Jerkpair? More accurate terminology seems to be lacking in this area) was hosted inside his car, only a few feet away from his date’s house. In the middle of the street. On a Thursday. Without any of them even remembering to grab a fucking tissue or condom or--

Dave blinks, then looks down again. “Wait, did you…?” He looks around and runs a hand along the length of Karkat’s bulge, whimpering softly when it instinctively curls around his oversensitive dick. “Uh, should I keep going? Change directions? Dive deeper? Take the wheel, Cap’n Vantas. Or, in this case, give me the wheel, but stay behind me guiding me softly like a pirate version of that one scene in Titanic. Gettin’ that good gay pirate rep in iconographic metaphors at least, before we make it big.” 

He swallows. “I think it’s high time you kiss me again.”

* * *

A hiss leaves Karkat's mouth the moment there's new stimulus on his bulge, he's feeling quite overstimmed but a little more level-headed, at least. To stay that way, he needs to keep Dave's hand away though. And um, his very grabbable dick. Fuck.

...yeah, those blue shameglobes are gonna hurt, this time.

"I'm good," Karkat assures him as he pants heavily, fumbling a bit to tuck himself back in, which is not the easiest thing to do right now especially, but he manages. When the blond seems very much unconvinced, he categorically adds "I got exactly what I wanted, Dave."

Only then he dives in for that kiss. Open-mouthed, passionate, sizzling and enamored. 

"You're adorable, and a sweetheart, a gentleman, and I had a wonderful time." Wow, that run-on sentence? Deserves a big fat throbbing award. _God he's horny_. 

...Dave seems a bit overwhelmed, now that the troll manages to focus his eyes back on him. _Whoops_.

"Also, you're an idiot, and a dork, and I could already write a big fat t- trilogy series with all the random tangents you've spewed out tonight, and if you ever improv a rap about _ziti_ in the middle of a public space I'm gonna whomp you," he chuckles with no venom.

Then leans in to cup his face and dedicate him an honest Vantas™️ brand look.

"And I can't wait to see you tomorrow." 

Another brief but sweet kiss to his lips, to reinforce the message.

"...you still want to see me tomorrow, right?"

* * *

Even while mentally sloshing through his afterglow lethargy, Dave still finds it in himself to grimace at Karkat’s bulge. He doesn’t know much about shit, but it kinda looked like the tendril would make a loud pop if pinched with a pin, so he hazards a guess that the troll’s not telling the whole story by saying he is ‘good’.

However, he’s also not about to make this a federal fucking issue, either. He’s cool. He’s a cool dude. He is also blushing a lot from Karkat’s praise, but he carefully pushes away that realization from his mind as he reaches into the gloves compartment to retrieve a roll of toilet paper and wipe them off. In any case, there will be other opportunit--

Dave blinks at Karkat’s question, tossing the dirty paper ball to the floor after making himself proper again. “What? Oh yeah, no, my offer stands, I’d love to have you around.” The blond smiles, the slickness overlay of his expression faint from the absence of his sunglasses.

Then, he hesitates, and his face falls a little. “Wait…you don’t seriously think I’d do all that prep and fertilizing for our date if I just wanted to get off, right?” His arms loosely wrap around Karkat’s waist as he sighs happily. “Nah man, I’ve put some serious backbone here. Gotten my favorite jeans dirty, pulled back my sleeves and wiped the sweat off my temple with calloused muddy hands as I plowed the earth so it could welcome the embryo of a juicy blossom in its sweet, moist soily embrace and flourish as the gay rainbow drop or something. People give those to their crushes to that they’re gay for them, because that’s how you confess in the 21st century.” Dave tightens his hold. “You’re the seed, Karkat. It’s you.”

After another kiss just to check — yep, he’s still pretty gay and into Karkat —, Dave smirks up at him. “And there you have it, a quadrilogy. The fans are ecstatic, the critics are skeptical, the sales are off the charts. You’re welcome.”

“Seriously, though. That was really hot, thanks.” Shit, he did _not_ mean to say that. “I’m looking forward for tomorrow.” A car passes them by, attracting Dave’s gaze to the window. “…Do you want me to walk you up?”

* * *

With his filter at an all-time low from nice thoughts, and warm feelings, and all blood rushed to his bulge (ok that's not how bulges work, but whatever, for the sake of the hyperbole) Karkat's face twists into an impish smirk.

"I figured if you just wanted to _get off_ you would have fucked me right on the Stargazing Block floor," Karkat snarks in a low purr, before leaning into Dave's kiss again, eyes closed in bliss and claws carding into blond hair.

"Or at my place. Or yours. Or in this actual vehicle." The troll ends up chuckling. "Point taken, I hope." 

His chest rumbles with red vibrations with Dave's arms locked lazily around him, although he does take care not to bring his crotch very close again, seeing as how it's still less conspicuously but very much wiggling.

"Maybe... next time? If you're ready." Karkat nuzzles his ear, squirming at the thought while vaguely trying to remember when was the last time he felt this happy, how long has it been since he felt so good.

Never. That's when.

"You're sweet, Dave." Karkat reiterates with a soft kiss to his temple before deeply sighing and getting ready for the dreaded goodbye. "I'm good from here, don't get out," he reassures the blond with a little pout of displeasure at the end of the best night ever. Yeah, he'd love to stay in those arms all night long, _surprise surprise_. 

"Ok then. I'll see you tomorrow for the, um. Homosexual crop harvesting or whatever the fuck you said?" His shoulders bounce in laughter. "Also. Text me later, so I know you're home safe? Please."

* * *

Dave barely contains a whine at the feeling of Karkat’s claws over his scalp. Can a human being melt? He’s pretty sure he can.

The blond chuckles sheepishly, fixing the collar of his shirt. “Well I mean, night is young. Maybe you reach for the handle but oh what’s this, locked? Dave, what is the meaning of this, what are you doing, is that a knife in your pocket or is your refractory nonexistent, where do you think you’re touching, no seriously that’s my navel, etc. etc.” His lips twitch into a smirk, leftover nervousness easing into comfortable banter. He breathes in slowly and sighs through his nose, blood chock-full of happy chemicals whose IUPAC names he scribbled on sweaty palms for finals during high school.

In other words, he’s feeling giddy, something he hasn’t experienced in a while. It’s thrilling, which means he’s about to get an energy boost for the following 36 hours, probably. Would probably be a good idea to stay away from the internet.

“But yeah, uh… stay tuned for part two of the most convoluted wooing of an alien ever known to bloggers and rappers. Can’t wait for the part where the asshole in shades commits an unforgivable blunder and gets canceled off the face of the Earth, then the show moves to the moon so he can continue his self-pillorying long distance and live in 4k.” Dave cringes at himself, then amends: “Which in Striderian terms means ‘thanks for the sweet date, you’re pretty fucking badass, I’ll see you tomorrow,’ I guess. Much is lost in translation.”

He leans back onto the seat with a lazy smile. “Hell yeah let’s collect those sexy crops, Karkittles. And I’ll inform you of my arrival with a conceptual seminude under the moonlight, seconds before I get hit with an orange in the dick by the old lady living in the building across from mine.” Dave sighs like a war-worn soldier. “It’s a narrow gap, don’t ask.”

After a few scarce seconds in silence, the blond looks up at the troll, a little hesitant. “Well, uh… Good night for now, then, I guess.” With a stuttering hand, he reaches up for one final deep kiss, if only to remember this while he’s going through the several advanced stages of his sexuality crisis deep into the night. Possibly wanking, too. And writing lyrics.

* * *

"...don't tempt me to actually lock us in this goddamn truck overnight, Dave." Karkat giggles softly but wholeheartedly against his shoulder. 

"And _you_ stay tuned! Brace yourself. Get your shit in gear and call the fire extinguishing brigade in advance." Like they need another nervous rambler. "Bloody shitting fuck, that's so stupid. My point is, it's my turn to swoon the pants off you next time." Romantic. "Better start writing some _enchanted and charmed_ raps or whatever you use as a response in that situation, because it's about to get positively seductive around here." Who's the smoothest? Karkat Vantas is the smoothest, fucking obviously. Where's his human wooing sports trophy.

"...I'll take you out on the next date, is the point." Karkat snorts while fiddling with his curls bashfully. Wow, this boy really _has him_. He would have exploded in embarrassment and misery otherwise. "After disco-dancing night, that is." That's most assuredly what it's called.

"Ok. Call me later or something, alright? Good night, Dave." A quick, tender peck to the corner of his lips. "Thank you." Karkat flashes him a genuine smile that lingers a bit extra, before finally sliding out of the car.

...he's a few steps on his way when he stands still for a couple of seconds, then turns back around.

"Oh, and. Dave?" The little troll leans into Dave's window, looking into his eyes for a stretch in silence.

...

"...where the fuck are we? This isn't my building OR my street. Take me home, you jackass!" He climbs back into the truck with disbelieving laughter shaking him to the core.

It's ok. They can hold hands for a couple more minutes.  


\- - - - -

After _actually_ saying goodnight and climbing up _the correct building_ in the _correct street_ , Karkat opens his apartment door to find that Kanaya's not actually there. She's simply left a note on the kitchen table and scrammed. 

...

_Oh, thank gods._

* * *

“I’m gonna take pity on you and pretend you did not just call my insane mixing rave _disco-dancing_ ,” is what Dave chooses to capitalize on. Although he can’t deny being low-key very excited to be courted by this clumsy tiny thing on his lap that apparently runs solely on wrath and lust. Hey, two out of seven is still a pretty safe ratio, right?

“No need to ask twice, babes, if there is one thing you will get from me at all times is hearing. As in, my words. Not that I don’t hear you too, ‘cause, contrary to popular and fraternal belief, I _am_ indeed capable of shutting the fuck up on occasion.” He’s so busy doing the exact opposite that Karkat’s even slipped from his grip already. “Shit-- good night!” Dave calls out to the troll’s back, watching him in a daze for a few seconds.

Imagine his surprise when Karkat comes back to him.

It takes a few moments to register, but Dave finally looks around. Indeed, the landscape does seem different than what he remembered, but he figured it was just the night view. “…Oh. Fuck, my bad, hop on aboard for the correction course.”

Despite his blunder, Karkat doesn’t seem actually offended or anything, so they laugh it off as he recites Dave the right directions, which for some reason makes his groin itch in a completely novel way. Wow, finding out a LOT about himself today. Shit’s better than therapy.

It takes a few more kisses and goodnights and farewells and see-you-soons for them to actually part. Dave looks after Karkat until he’s completely vanished from his sight, less from intended zeal and more like spacing out like a lovestruck idiot in the middle of the street. He’s pulled over quite half-assedly and a loud horn jolts him out of his daze so he can finally leave the curb and go home.

* * *

  
Dear Karkat:

I Do Sincerely Hope Your Romantic Endeavors Are Fruitful Tonight. I For One Am Positive He Will Love You. In Fact I Am Fairly Certain He Already Does.

Because I Know You Will Take Such Good Emotional Care Of Dave, I Am Simply Left With The Concern And Hope That You Will Give Yourself An Equal Treatment. Please Look After Yourself When I Cannot.

I Will Be Staying At A Booked Room Downtown For A Spell In Order to Avoid Privacy Issues. Please Call Me Tomorrow On Whenever You Become Free. I Have No Doubt We Will Have Much To Discuss.

Take Care. Enjoy Yourselves. I Love You.

Kanaya <>  
  


When he reads it, the young troll won't be able to help quirking an eyebrow with writer's pique at his old friend's cumbersome spelling quirk. It's already irksome enough to read as it is, he can't imagine how exasperating it must be to have to _write it_ , fuck.

_Stupid infuriatingly smart, mysteriously precognizant, loving caring moirail best friend._

... <>

But Karkat will actually turn out to read her thoughtful note much later. Because in his current state, the moment he puts his keys down by the entrance and mindlessly looks up on the little mirror above the end table, his eyes become blurry staring at a red mark on his neck.

The mark Dave's left on him.

The troll wouldn't exactly bet on Dave knowing the connotations of _marking someone_... but a shudder runs down his spine nonetheless.

It's quiet, unassuming, but within a minute Karkat's bare, lying on his back in bed, body arching and curling as he breathlessly chants Dave's name. One hand tangled into his ebony hair, the other one snaked down his body, eyes glossy and lost as he thinks of... _him_.

Dave's smile, his mannerisms, his eyes. The wonderful night he's gone to great lengths to give them both. The way he flusters and blushes, that he smirks and snickers. His lips. His heated but nervous touch. His sensual voice in Karkat's ear.

" _Dave~_ "

Karkat makes the rare exception of letting his mind go completely, he simply melts as his eyes flutter closed and his body spasms as he lets Dave take his breath away completely.

Dave, who is so damn beautiful gasping in ecstasy, looking just like Karkat looks right now.

_His boy._

...

A perfect silent moment and then a small shiver. _His_.

For a few moments, Karkat debates whether to feel slightly guilty, or roll over and fall asleep in exhaustion. His expressive face wrinkles into the slightest pensive scowl for an instant… but he soon forgoes both options in favor of sinking blissed out into the pillow, smiling. And waiting.

A beep on the bedside, soon after. His knight of perfect timing.

The man who drove him crazy from the very first instant, and now he's in love with.

Big amber and ruby eyes glow warmly as he picks up his phone, his toothy smile already poking out and spreading with the prospect of making plans for their date, for tomorrow, for... a future?

Hi, Dave.

And for once, Karkat can't wait to see what that future holds.

* * *

Arriving home feels almost foreign, weirdly enough. Dave’s always felt the most comfortable at his shabby apartment, but now it seems irrationally cold to come back to. Oh well.

He chucks off his shoes and strips himself of street items as he enters the living room, and within minutes he’s draped over his sorry ass couch with phone in hands and shades in his hair.

First and foremost, he fires off a message to Karkat confirming his safe and sane arrival at his own humble abode. There is no immediate reply from the troll, which makes the blond shamefully speculate about his current engagement… Alright, that’s creepy, Strider, quit it. Unless… well, they have just, you know. Gotten frisky with each other, even if Karkat didn’t--

Oh man. Karkat didn’t even come. That can’t be a good sign. Was Dave doing something wrong or did he have another reason in mind? Fuck, do trolls ooze out weird/toxic fluids when they come?? He looks down at his pants, slightly stained red. Huh.

Either way, he can make it up to him soon.

…

_Oh fuck he can make it up to him soon._

Dave comes to terms with the impending doom of insomnia for the night and decides to brew some tea to chug down with his meds. As he waits for the steam to simmer down, he stares at his phone, chewing on the inside of his cheek.

Today went… way better than expected. Nothing blew up, including Karkat himself, and they had a good vibe going on. Man, if there were still any qualms about feeling attracted to him, they sure were fucking obliterated during their frantic make-out session by the end of the evening.

So yeah. He’s into guys. Apparently. At least into Karkat, who is a guy. Also a troll? Those sure are a lot of revelations strung to one another like a psychological version of human caterpillar that turned out to be slightly less agonizing than the one in the actual movie. Maybe.

Still, Dave’s fingers twitch on the counter, tapping restlessly as he thinks on the conversations he’s had lately that helped him come to his current mindset regarding his own sexuality.

His mind settles on a course of action and the blond abandons the mug on the counter _in lieu_ of plopping down comfortably on the couch again. The tea’s instantly forgotten. Dave unlocks his phone and pulls up a fairly recent chat.

\-- turntechGodhead [TG] has sent a message in the group chat ‘Derse motherfuckers’ --

TG: so hey  
TG: guess whos been lying on the bottom of the closet all this time living off scraps and cookie crumbles left behind by former residents ie his older wiser siblings who certainly wont exploit this select moment of vulnerability to riff on him for all the times hes made fun of their gayness  
TG: ikr how the turntables etc etc haha the ironiez  
TG: rose i can see you typing and imma as you to shut up for like five minutes or forty and hear me out  
TG: anyway remember a few months ago when business was slow and i said i might try online shopping if you catch my drift  
TG: and the evil sapphic unsettling tentacle enthusiast who happens to be of my own kin for some goddamn reason recced me a dating app which i wholeheartedly considered as serious fucking counseling without an ounce of suspicion in my pure innocent trusting mind  
TG: yeah well  
TG: heres a funny story:

**\---KATFISHING: THE END*---**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *for now... ;]
> 
> **HorologiumParadox (Max)** : 'Sup, guys! If you've stayed with us all the way here, thank you so much for your support, be it through reading, commenting, passing out kudos like they're cheap cigars, lurking, however the fuck you prefer to consume fan works.  
> Katfishing started roughly 8 months ago as an RP on the HSRP server on Discord and was originally titled "Give a man a catfish and he'll cry for another day, give a man a rod and he'll have a gay crisis". It was me and Mar's first RP and it was the one that brought us closer together to the point where there is not a day now I don't talk to her, even if it's just to check on each other.  
> From one offhand, self-indulgent mention of DirkJohn in this RP, we ended up with a spin-off, which then birthed a whole fucking AU Katfishing's series belongs to. We don't intend to stop on DaveKat and DirkJohn, though. RoseMary was bound to happen, but other side characters that have only showed up briefly or been mentioned in passing, and even ones that haven't shown up at all, will get their chance to shine, so stay tuned! :D
> 
> **cheeryPsycho (Mar)** : Oh, how the time does fly. One day they're your first lil' rp and the next they're 70 fuckin K and off to a sequel. And also they have several spin-offs in the making and plans for future children. This metaphor is incredibly apt, shut up.
> 
> ...and they caused you to meet an amazing goddamn friend. I'm not sobbing, you're sobbing.
> 
> Thank you all for sticking with us! I still squirm thinking of fans reading my work, so whether it brought you a chuckle, a smile, or a little twinge in the heart, I am sincerely grateful. We'll see you with the sequel, where the boys will get into so many shenanigans trying to develop their relationship and newfound intimacy ;3 and make sure to follow our colorfully-named series _the web of wyrd but its got more knots than a boy scouts handbook_ if you want to meet the whole cast of family and friends co-starring this delightful mess.
> 
> **Til next time. <3**

**Author's Note:**

> More chapters written, coming up soon! <3


End file.
